


A Flower With Thorns

by Pashte



Series: The Halcyon Chronicles [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: 90 percent queer cast, Aromantic Relationships, Elemental Magic, F/M, INCLUDING MAGIC FORENSICS, Lots of Angst, M/M, Non-binary rep, Other, Spiritual magic, also these bonds are not instantaneous because I hate that trope, and a couple of magic nerds because this takes place mostly at a magic school, and class issues out the wazoo, and if you don’t then kindly fuck right off cause I ain’t got time for your garbage, and magical dueling for fun and profit and honor, animistic polytheism, as long as you consider ace/aro spec folks as queer, bondmagic that’s not necessarily romantic in nature, bonds require MAINTENANCE, but in a mid-industrial setting, content warning: Discussions and depictions of sexual harassment, content warning: discussions and depictions of child abuse, content warning: discussions and depictions of emotional abuse, demisexual rep, did I mention the magic science, epic fantasy, for a definition of ‘honor’ anyway, just because a society has magic doesn’t mean they don’t PROGRESS, magically bonded clans, there is angst ok, there’s magic science is what I’m saying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:40:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 110,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21650929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pashte/pseuds/Pashte
Summary: Desperate and hiding a deadly secret, Seya isn’t expecting much when she returns to the city where she grew up, especially after finding out Halcyon, the magic school where she spent much of her childhood, and her last–and only–hope for help, is now in the hands of a stranger. But trouble is brewing in Starling, and after a run-in with a teenage delinquent with a dangerous secret, she ends up tangled in it, all the while struggling with bonds old and new, family ties she’s spent her life denying, and terrifying coercive magic. And it’s not just guilt and fear that’s keeping her from accepting the help of her former bond brother or Halcyon’s kind-hearted bondmaster. Her secrets destroyed the last place she thought she could stay, so how could she dare risk the only place her heart has ever called home?Vico is at the end of his rope. The secrets and heartbreak he’s been carrying for the last year, after suffering a breakdown that ended his long, fraught partnership with the heir of the Malthusius, but he can’t bring himself to cut his last tie to the man he still loves, even though it seems impossible that he’ll ever get what he wants. And then the bondsister he lost returns, carrying secrets of her own...
Series: The Halcyon Chronicles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1560859
Comments: 19
Kudos: 3





	1. In which a girl comes home

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, sorry, this was supposed to be posted December 1st but, uh. Stuff happened. Anyway! This will be posted a chapter a week, except for today, when you get two chapters so you can get a look at all the POV characters. This book is really long, over 280k words, a total of 54 chapters, and the first novel of a series that will be at least three books long. I’m on twitter and pillowfort as craftyspacecat, and I have a facebook author page under the name J.M. Cowan, feel free to follow me, or let me know about typos, or things you think ought to be mentioned in the content warnings, or whatever! 
> 
> Chapter specific content warnings: mentions of coercive magic, mentions of dead friends and relatives, and a minor depiction of grief.

Seya paused at the top of the hill, staring down at the sprawl of buildings and streets in the distance below. It had been nearly ten years since she’d had set foot in Starling. A decade since her mother's death; since the Uprisers' March had come to her hometown and tore her world apart; a decade since she'd severed the bond that had anchored her through her childhood. She’d never intended to return, especially not like a dog slinking home with its tail between its legs, to beg favors from a woman who might just as soon throw her back out on her ear. There was no one to blame but herself for that possibility, of course. Just another stupid, emotionally-fueled decision that had blown up in her face like always.

No—no, there was DeGraffenreid too. The scar tissue that laced across the back of her left hand drew uncomfortably taut as she clenched it into a fist, the thick, sweat dampened fabric of the fingerless dueling glove she wore crinkling across her palm uncomfortably. She didn't dare take the glove off, even though she had lost the right one weeks ago in yet another hurried and all too necessary midnight flight from some city whose name she'd already forgotten—had she ever even learned it? It hardly mattered, and it was far better to be thought a little odd than for people to see what she'd done to escape DeGraffenreid's hold over her.

DeGraffenreid, the notorious traitor, former commander of the Fifteenth, the man who'd forced his pinnacle on her, then used that bond to coerce her magic out from under her. Just thinking about him made her chest tighten with fear.

No, don't think about it, don't think about him. He had burned his way across half of Caldona chasing her, finally giving up to focus his efforts on his terrorist campaign in the capital. Seya had not stopped running, and the constant fear and guilt were beginning to take their toll.

She made an attempt to center herself before panic took hold in earnest: deep, even breaths, all the negative emotions tucked away, a forced calm spread through her aura—a very forced calm. She'd always been bad at centering. It had been easier when she'd had an anchor.

If Vico was still here, in Starling—but no. She didn't dare to contemplate the idea. Too damn dangerous even to hope.

The rumble of a car coming up the road from behind her jolted Seya back to herself. She stuffed her left hand into her pocket hastily as it passed by, and adjusted the strap of her battered knapsack over her shoulder. Her jaw was clenched from the tension as she walked on toward the city. The vehicle's automagic engine left a rippling wake in the resonance permeating the road, which dissipated quickly upon reaching the wards that edged the pavement; the fact that she could sense something so small and commonplace meant she had let her shields slip again. The effort required to maintain them was an endless drain on her energy, but she could not let them go, not completely. Once she got into town, she'd need them to be steady. The last thing she wanted was to be noticed. Dragging them back into shape, she trudged on.

The streetlights were just beginning to come on as she hit the city limit sign. She paused there, shutting her eyes against the orange and gold of the sunset that crowned the hills west of Starling, its brilliance reflected by the river that ran along the eastern edge of the city. The searing colors reminded her too much of the fire that had driven her out of Keraday on a hot, early autumn day ten months before.

No.

She couldn't think of that, and she wouldn't think of what would happen if Winter refused to help her. She raised her hand to shield her eyes and opened them to look out over a landscape much changed from her memory.

Starling had not been a large city when she left, and it still had only modest pretensions to such. With no high clan in residence, it was too far away from the capital to be of much interest politically, even after the rampant industrialization of the automagic industry that had spread rapidly in the wake of the Upriser's March. Though it appeared Starling was not entirely immune to that expansion; there were a number of water refineries along the river that had not been there before, and the once-pastoral fields that had butted against the city's border had been sectioned off in many places by fenced-in factories. The air around them buzzed with the residual effects of the automagic they were creating and the highly regimented spellwork such magic entailed, disturbing the natural elemental lines and spiritual resonances that criss-crossed the gently rolling plain. The disruption had a chaotic quality she associated with poorly managed magic and unappeased spirits. A particularly disturbing aura hung over the blackened hulk of a building on a hill at the northeast edge of town, the end result of a disastrous elemental rebound. The dissonance of it lingered almost imperceptibly in the resonances of the unclaimed areas of the countryside, not fresh, but not old enough to have happened during the war, either. Seya had found this to be a sadly common occurrence in the more out of the way counties of Caldona, where government oversight of magic was scarce and often underfunded since the restructuring of the clan system after the war. Seya recalled that place had belonged to old Talbot, head of one of Starling's older, if much less prominent clans, though after a decade, she supposed it could have belonged to anyone. She had not been given much opportunity to keep track of news concerning her hometown.

The main road into town was lined with businesses that had not existed in her childhood: bars, mage-tech repair shops, billboards advertising specialty auto-magics of questionable quality. The one old charge station that used to sit at the crossroads right at the edge of town was gone. Seya felt a pang of regret for it; she had spent a good portion of her youth loitering there with Vico and an ever-rotating assortment of friends, spoiling for duels and practicing stupidly dangerous magic. She looked rather askance at the brightly lit corner shop that replaced it. The spellwork of the sign gave a flashy glow in the dimming evening light, advertising speedy elemental charging for all vehicles at reasonable rates, hot food, cold drinks, charms, and the usual assortment of auto-magic spells for the convenience of those with low mage levels or simply a disinclination to waste energy or effort on the small bits of magic that were becoming ever more necessary in the rapidly modernizing country.

Seya paused to glance in the window—the idea of a cold drink was awfully appealing after walking in the blistering summer heat all day—but the funds from her last short-lived job had dwindled to a handful of pocket change. The glimmer over the door caught her eye. She recognized the Malthusius sigil and recoiled automatically, even though it had been nearly a decade since she had seen it last.

She walked on, a tremor of trepidation growing as she passed through the new industrial district on the north edge of town, a much-expanded residential area, and on into downtown. The Malthusius mark still peppered doorways in the shopping and business districts as well. Ten years was a long time—well, nine years, four months and sixteen days—but she supposed some things would never change. She wasn't exactly surprised that Corin Malthusius had maintained such a hold over Starling despite the restructuring of the clan system's hold over Caldona's political landscape. The general had stripped the clan heads of their semi-noble status as law-makers and enforcers after King Etaine's abdication, but many of those clans that remained after the dust of that change had settled still had wealth and property and a stranglehold on magical education, and that was power enough to make them a force to be reckoned with.

That was one of the many reasons she did not want to linger on the grudging acknowledgement that Malthusius was more a force for good than bad in the city where she'd lived the first sixteen years of her life, and indeed, the parts of the city maintained by Corin's clan were relatively free of the chaotic taint of dissonance that hung in the air outside of town. His energy lines were were strong and stable, and his affiliated businesses looked to be doing well. She couldn't help but notice that the buildings with Corin's mark were all just a little nicer than the rest. One did not outdo a Malthusius. Still, she had spent her entire life hating the man himself for the trail of havoc he'd left through her childhood; she saw no reason to give him cause to try to claim her again after so long.

It was Winter she had come to see, and that was more nerve-wracking than any run-in she could have imagined with Corin. Winter Halcyon had been her magic teacher, and Seya had vanished without finishing her instruction, without even saying goodbye. Compounding that was the fact that she had been fostered at the Halcyon school even before her mother's death—Winter and her husband Dalen had been her legal guardians at the time. She didn't want to contemplate too deeply how they had reacted to her sudden disappearance right as the Uprisers were sweeping through the area, unleashing magics both dissonant and destructive, and stirring up dangerously divisive politics into the bargain.

Seya figured the best case scenario was getting the door slammed in her face. She was afraid to contemplate the worst. She didn't know how much they might have heard about her, if anything. DeGraffenreid had signed her up to the Fifteenth under an assumed name, with faked aural traces and forged papers, and the whole squadron was listed as dead after that last battle in Chelsa before the Uprisers' Flight, but Seya did not like to take for granted that no one from the military would be looking for her. She already knew very well that DeGraffenreid was, and Starling was where he had found her. It was no small stretch to think he had eyes here.

But you're not thinking about that, she told herself sternly. She was just going to be there long enough to get told off by her old magic teacher, maybe get something to eat before she fell over in a dead faint in the middle of the street on the way out. Please, whatever gods may be listening, let that be the worst that happens.

Seya generally preferred to avoid the attention of gods as much as possible, but this was a special case.

The streets were a blur by the time she reached Halcyon, her nerves stretched to the limit. She almost lost her resolve just standing across the street from the school. Here, though, was one place that didn't seem to have changed at all in the last decade. The five acre plot where it sat had once been the very heart of Starling. Back then it had been much bigger, the city blossoming around the edges of the Starling's expansive estate, but the high clan that had given the city its name had fallen on hard times, growing smaller and less influential, finally dying out completely. The crumbling manor house and compound buildings had long been demolished, and the last few aged Starling, desperately impoverished by the growing monopoly of the Malthusius, and the encroachment of other, newer clans, had been forced to sell off portions of their property, the city crowding in bit by bit until only this handful remained.

To Seya's relief, the magic the Halcyons had cultivated there seemed untouched by the threads of disruption that wove throughout the rest of the town. Of course Winter would never allow such a thing to happen. The last Starling had sold the property to Winter because she had the strength and skill to keep the heart of their city true to the old Caldi magic that had prevailed before the Waves had begun over a century before, and out of the hands of the Malthusius and others like them who saw it as a resource to be exploited for power and profit.

The school itself was a generously proportioned two-story house, remodeled extensively to make room for the students Winter and Dalen had fostered on and off throughout their respective careers as teacher and healer. It was built of the heavy, cream-white stone from the local quarries, and framed with ancient, towering trees that lent an impression of stateliness despite the utilitarian design—Winter had always said there were better things to spend her money on than the architectural falderals favored by the clans. The front yard was still lush with Dalen's herb beds, fragrant in the warmth of the evening. She remembered every stone of the low wall that ran along the front of the property. The gate still stood open. People had thought that unwise, considering Winter's contentious relationship with the city's clans, who already had little trust for a charitable school, much less one teaching such an unusual mixture of old Caldi and newer, foreign magics, but she wouldn't have it shut. A school of magic is for helping people, she always said, and you can't help them when you're shutting them out.

Of course there had been the occasional hot-head who took that as an invitation to start trouble, but Winter was strong, a high elementalist and champion duelist, a daughter of an old and powerful high clan herself, the Montreides, and even though she had disclaimed the Montreides bond along with its name, it didn't take her long to establish a reputation as a force to be reckoned with. Even Corin, her foremost opponent, had eventually let them be. Between the blow to his reputation after losing their first fight, and the fact that people tended to genuinely like the Halcyons, he had decided it just wasn't worth it, politically.

Not that he hadn't caused trouble for them occasionally. Especially after Seya started living there. It made her cringe to remember all the things Winter and Dalen had done for her, put up with for her. Had she ever appreciated it? She knew what she was going to be asking, but her other options were worse—she could throw herself on the mercy of the military tribunal, but the moment for that had passed years ago. There was no one else left to ask, and she couldn't keep running, because there were precious few places left for her to go.

She spent a few minutes loitering in the shadowy space between the street lamps. It was already dark, and she figured waking everyone up would further decrease her already slim chances of finding help, but she also couldn't afford a place to sleep for the night. Over the last few years she'd become an expert on picking up under-the-table odd jobs, but the farther she got from the capital, the longer the roads got between cities, and correspondingly fewer such opportunities arose. And people were warier than ever of strangers walking around with their defenses as high as she had to keep hers, now that the Uprisers were making trouble again.

Her stomach was starting to complain about how long it had been since breakfast, too, so she screwed up her courage and crossed the street.

She got a good sense of the wards around the place as she approached the gate. They were only there to keep the magic seated on the property stable, not to keep people out, but she did notice as she passed through that they felt different than she remembered. It wasn't Winter's calm, neutral spellwork. This barrier carried a warmer, definitely masculine impression with a hint of clan magic under the original spellwork, though it lacked the markers that would have defined the origin. Winter never used clan magic, not even undesignated spellwork. Seya hoped that only meant she had found a student or an assistant she trusted enough with the ward spells, one whom, like herself, had left their clan and had not yet shed all the habits they'd learned there. She reinforced her shields, which had slipped again, and stepped through.

Halcyon's magic felt much the same as it had when she had studied there—a cool, calm magic seated in earth and water, a soft blue-green glimmer in her sense, perfect for nurturing spiritual connections, teaching, and growing the medicinal herbs for Dalen's healing practice. It remembered her, if the way it lapped with gentle, eager familiarity against her aura was any indication, and the reaction quickly caught the spirits' attention. The smaller ones drifted out of their seats as she walked along the stone-paved path around the house, and trailed after her, enthralled and slightly petulant at the weight of her shields. She told herself it was only her magic they remembered, her ridiculous magic that couldn't help catching everything—but it had been so long since there was anyone to be happy to see anything of her, and they were just young, rather silly little plant spirits, so she could not find it in her to begrudge them. The older, more sapient tree spirits were more circumspect, but she felt their attention, their recognition, and reduced her shields to greet them properly, extending her hand—just the right one—and her sense, and letting them touch her aura, just a little. She didn't want to catch them. Nothing good ever came of letting anyone or anything get caught by her magic.

But gods, it felt so good to relax, if only for a moment. To soak up a little good, clean energy. It had been a long time since she had touched properly maintained magic. Not since—but she wasn't thinking about that. She shut her eyes and sighed. Home. It was a bitter thought, considering how it would probably end. So she stood there a little longer, soaking in the feeling of it while she could.

❀

There are never enough hours in the day, Zan thought, as he paced through the kitchen garden, checking the spells that protected the plants from pests and the harsh heat of the season. The little glow of spelled light illuminating the rows of greenery started drifting away as he mused on the things he still had left to do. He raised a hand absently to halt it and draw it back to its place over his shoulder.

Some of the spellwork on the plants was showing signs of dissipation, but nothing too serious; he could probably let Adiel fix them tomorrow. It was good practice, even if Adiel was already close to mage certification level in his studies, though Zan sometimes felt a little guilty for relying on his foster student so much. Halcyon was supposed to be taking care of Adiel, not the other way around. Not that Adiel complained. He took the notion that he was indebted to Halcyon far too seriously for a boy of seventeen.

Zan was just going to have to take the time to hire himself a proper assistant soon, like Aren and Kaya kept telling him. Adiel would be graduating in autumn, after all, and if Zan's class schedule got any fuller, he really wouldn't have enough hours in the day to devote to the upkeep of Halcyon's spiritual resonance, which was already considerable, and would only become more so if he managed to add a third elemental to the bond. He paced around the house to the space he'd cleared for that project. The little furnace where he intended to nurture a new fire elemental was surrounded by a circle of stone tile, set directly into the rich, black earth. The stones of the tile and the furnace had been collected from all over Halcyon, to give the new elemental a secure connection to the earth elementals that provided the bulk of the bond's energy, but the space itself was just far enough from the bond's seat to keep from triggering a polarity reaction with the younger, not quite as sensible water elemental. With two powerful earth elementals to provide balance, Zan didn't expect to have any problems bringing it in, but better safe than sorry. He could move the fire elemental to the seat after the three elements had been properly harmonized.

It would be a while yet before he'd need to worry about it anyway; it took months, if not years, to nurture an elemental spirit, and he still had to turn in paperwork to the Bond Authority and the Elemental Commission, and wait for their authorization.

And there were still other preparations to complete before he began the laborious process of bringing a simple flame to sentience, but those were not on his to do list for the evening. Zan had just started his nightly check on the spellwork of the boundary wards when he felt the tell-tale shifting in the resonances that meant someone had come onto the grounds. He frowned, looked down at his watch—it was almost nine. Only someone with a problem would show up at Halcyon's gate at such an hour.

Or someone wanting to cause one.

Abandoning his task, Zan cut through the grounds toward the front gate, sending his sense out through Halcyon's bonds, noting with some surprise that whoever it was had already gotten the spirits' attention. He was considering asking one of the older spirits to relay more information for him, but then he rounded the front corner of the house and found the intruder standing on the edge of the path, communing silently with one of the older tree spirits. For an instant he caught her in profile; a sad face, much too young for the level of the spiritual resonance glowing in her aura. That vanished so suddenly he almost thought he had imagined it, except he was still blinking away the afterimage it left in his sense. The girl eyed him warily, retreating into her shields, shoulders hunching, her eyes flicking away, her hair falling over her face before he could get a clear view of her features. It was too dark to make out much anyway, but she had a desperate, ragged look about her. He had a sudden impulse to bring her inside and make her a sandwich.

"Good evening, miss, is there something I can help you with?" he said.

"Didn't mean to intrude," she said, ducking her head even more. "Is—is Winter here? I need to see her."

"I'm afraid Winter doesn't live here anymore. She left after her husband died."

She did look up at that, her eyes widening with shock. "Dalen—died?" The shock gave way quickly to a sheen of tears. Strangely, a shiver of her grief echoed through the resonances as if she was one of Halcyon's bonded, but Zan was certain he had met all the former students who had taken the Halcyon pinnacle, and he did not recognize her. Halcyon recognized her, that much was certain. His wariness faded a bit.

"I'm sorry. Did you know them well?" he asked.

"I—I was a student here," she said faintly. "A long time ago. How—?"

"It was his heart. A congenital condition, there was nothing the healers could do about it. Winter decided to take his remains back to Thelassa so he could be put to rest with his tir. She is not currently planning to return."

"I see," she said, swiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. "I mean—he was pushing seventy—I guess it shouldn't be this much of a shock." But it was, if the waver in her voice was any indication. She looked utterly lost.

"Maybe there's something I can do for you? I'm Zandre Montreides." He held out his hand. "I'm Halcyon's bondmaster now."

She ignored the outstretched hand, folding her arms across her stomach. "No. No, I don't think there is. Sorry to have bothered you," she said, turning abruptly down the path toward the gate.

Zan raised a hand, but she was gone before he could think what to say to stop her. The shiver of her grief remained in the resonances long after her slight form had disappeared into the night.


	2. In which Vico has an argument and learns a shocking fact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here’s chapter 2, after an unscheduled nap lolsob 
> 
> Chapter specific content warnings: depiction of depression
> 
> There is some angsty interaction between Vico and his ex in this chapter, my poor sad boys did not part on good terms :(

Chapter Two

The Malthusius compound sprawled over a hillside on the southwestern edge of Starling, overlooking the city, and from the steps of the main business offices at the front of the property, Vico Rhaimes had an excellent view of his hometown, bathed in blue and lavender twilight. It was not a view that inspired any great affection or loyalty from him. He sat on the steps with his chin on his hands and glared out at the lights flickering to life below under the rapidly darkening sky and thinking, not for the first time, that it would be so easy to just walk away from it all. There was nothing but his clan bond to tie him there, and that was easy enough to fix. Corin Malthusius would be only too happy to be rid of him.

If he played it right, he might even walk away with some kind of compensation, something that would enable him to get as far from Starling and all the bitter memories it contained as possible. Though how much was it worth to be asked to leave when everyone knew exactly how little he had left to lose? He wasn't entirely sure why Corin was still putting up with him, when he'd only ever done so for Jayen's sake, and grudgingly as hell at that.

Behind him the sound of voices filtered through the open windows of the common room. The second shift security crew had just come in from their patrols, and they were drowning the day's work in cold beer and ever-rowdier conversation. Vico didn't have to look back to know Jayen was still there, writing up his daily report and occasionally responding to something one of his people said. His prickly presence was too familiar and painful to ignore. Vico knew he should leave before Jayen found an excuse to come talk to him, but he couldn't summon the energy. He wasn't even sure if that was what he wanted. He wasn't sure of anything anymore except the little hollow in his heart where his hope used to live.

Even so, he tensed and sat up when the door opened behind him, and was a little relieved to see it was only Lejan Jacinth. Lejan had only been with the Malthusius a couple of years, and he worked as a senior mage for one of the Lines and Resonances crews. As a contract bonded, he viewed his place in the clan as a job rather than a lifetime commitment, and as an immigrant from Malacha, a country that had much less of a history with spiritual bonding practices, his lack of ingrained reverence for the clan ethos made him easy to talk to—as did the fact that he didn't care one bit about Vico's less than sterling status among the clan-born majority. "Avoiding your ex again?" he asked.

"Is it that obvious?" Vico said.

"Yeah, a little."

Vico shrugged. "I'm tired of having the same damn argument with him every time we end up in a room together. If he doesn't like it, he can learn to shut up and take it like the tough guy he thinks he is."

"Ouch," Lejan said, though he sounded more amused than sympathetic—he and Jayen were not really on friendly terms. "Still, it can't be easy when your ex-partner is the heir to your clan."

"It's not like it was easy when we were together," Vico said dryly.

"True. Addison sure does have it out for you lately. I heard you got called on the carpet again yesterday."

Vico waved an apathetic hand. "This thing with the permits for Bretinne. I'm used to it. All that filthy Sancerre blood, you know. Sticks to everything I do like a curse."

"Damned unfair, if you ask me," Lejan said, the beads at the ends of the mass of braids framing his face clicking together as he shook his head. "It's not like you got to fill out an application at birth. Check your clan preference and parentage, sign here and initial there."

"Yeah, well. Life's like that," Vico said. "It's all so much bullshit clan politics. I don't actually care." That was not entirely accurate, but he had said it enough that it almost felt true. "What else am I going to do with myself?"

"Were you done for the day? Need a ride home?"

"No, I'll walk. I still need to take this up to the mediations office." Vico patted the thick folder laid across his lap. "I was kind of hoping it'd quiet down in there so I could get upstairs without having to deal with all my baggage, but it seems like everyone's settling in for the evening."

"If you're sure."

"I'll be all right. How's Teletha?"

"Oh, she's great. The baby started kicking yesterday, she's been bubbling over with excitement about it," Lejan said with a big, beaming smile.

"Well, yeah, your first kid and all. That's exciting enough for anyone."

"Exciting, terrifying. You know," Lejan said, but his happiness was so obvious that it stung a little.

Vico forced himself to smile back. "Tell her I said hi."

"Sure. You should come over for dinner again soon. You've been spending too much time by yourself lately."

"I've just been busy."

"Well, take care of yourself," Lejan said, clapping him on the shoulder with a big, friendly hand.

"See you tomorrow.” Or not.

There was a burst of raucous laughter from the common room. Vico glanced back through the window to see several members of the night security crew filing through on their way out. His jaw tightened at the sight of Torrance McKellen talking to Jayen. That had become a rather more common occurrence of late. Vico was fairly certain Jayen was only tolerating Tor's attention to get a rise out of him, but it was still damned infuriating. He stood, fingers clenched over the folder; he suddenly couldn't stand another minute being there. He flung the door open and stalked through the common room without looking at either of them. The mediation offices were only one floor up, so he didn't bother with the elevator, just took the steps two at a time. He flung the folder down on his desk and kicked his chair over in a burst of fury. It clattered too loudly in the silence of the empty room. That just made him feel worse. He was aware that he had inherited something of his father's temper, and it was an aspect of himself that caused him a great deal of self loathing, especially of late.

He took a deep breath, centered himself, and set the chair upright. Straightening the papers up, he put them in his desk drawer, and sat down without bothering to turn the light on. There was nothing in his work area to look at anyway, it was spare and blank and utilitarian. Just like everything else in his life, since last year.

It would be so easy to leave. Buy a train ticket to somewhere, anywhere—disappear. Except he would have to go to the bank and withdraw money; he never kept that much on him, which meant he would have to wait until morning. By which time he knew, from experience, he would have either talked himself out of the idea or given up on it out of the knowledge that he had nowhere to go. Leaving meant being alone, truly alone, and he had always been bad at that. And there was the matter of his pinnacle—he knew how much it hurt to be revoked from a bond without consent. It had been a decade since Seya had severed their bond and abandoned him, but thinking about it still brought up a wrenching emptiness in his chest.

And then there were all the other unresolved feelings. "Idiot," he muttered to himself, raking his fingers through his hair and scowling down at the top of his desk. He touched the fire charm dangling from the earring on his left ear, stroking his thumb over the containment spells etched into the tiny sphere of glass, feeling the restrained warmth from the spark inside. It was a powerful one, much nicer than the standard issue charms given out to the security staff—a gift from Jayen, which was the only reason he still had it after his abrupt exit from the security department last summer. He'd considered getting rid of it a hundred times, but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to take it off.

No, he knew the reason. It just made him feel even more tired and depressed and angry than he already did to contemplate it.

A shadow blotted out the meager light from the hallway. Vico sat up and took another deep breath, blinking the sting out of his eyes. He have known the broad, square shoulders silhouetted in the doorway even if Jayen hadn't smacked his hand over the light charm next to it, flooding the cramped office with warm gold light harvested directly from the clan's fire elemental. "What the hell are you doing sitting here in the dark? Are—are you crying?" He sounded downright offended by the idea.

"Of course not," Vico snapped, even though he knew his red-rimmed eyes probably gave away how close he had been to it. "I wouldn't dare have an emotional display within a mile radius of you. I know how uncomfortable that makes you."

"Sorry for not being an emotional person," Jayen bristled.

"I didn't realize anger no longer counted as an emotion," Vico returned tartly as he unpinned the Malthusius sigil from his collar.

Jayen scowled. "You know you're not supposed to take that off. You'll get in trouble again."

"Maybe it's worth it to have one day when I'm not being summoned by the powers that be at some unholy hour of the morning to get blamed for and then clean up someone else's mess." Vico tossed the disc of polished copper, engraved with the sigils that strengthened and reinforced the communication properties of the clan bond, into the top drawer of his desk. "What, are you going to rat me out to Addison?"

"Do you really think I'd do that? I've offered to talk to him for you a hundred times! Gods, what is wrong with you lately? Why’ve you been avoiding me?"

"What’s wrong with you, hanging out with that fucking sociopath?"

"Tor was just asking about the work rotations for next month. That is my job, you know. You're the one who made the most noise about me taking the business side of things seriously. You can't get mad at me when I actually do."

"He can ask his own crew leader about the schedule, he doesn't need to worm himself back into your good graces for that. And I'm sure it was all business at Dacie's over the weekend, right? While you guys were drinking yourselves under the table. _Very_ businesslike."

Jayen flushed red under the deep bronze of his skin, anger and guilt mingling in his aura. "Who told you that?"

"Davin, of course. Who else would bother talking to me?”

"Davin Gates is an idiot," Jayen said. "Everyone was there, like usual. You'd know that if you showed up yourself once in a while."

"Nobody wants me there. And that's not even the point."

"It is exactly the point! I'm not as free as you, I can't just flake out on these gatherings like it doesn't mean anything. I'm the heir. I have to put in an appearance, keep up with things."

Vico knew that was true. Jayen might be the only recognized child of the clan's founding bloodline and a powerful high elementalist level mage in is own right, but his spiritual levels were low—much lower than average, in fact—and the rest of the high tier had been expressing doubts about his suitability to run the clan's bond magic since he was a teenager. He couldn't take over the clan if the high tier wouldn't have him, which meant he had to toe a careful line between what they expected him to be and what he wanted. Jayen tended to skew toward the former.

Which was one of the reasons they weren't together anymore. Vico tamped down his frustration. He was very well acquainted with how hard Jayen worked to keep up with his clan's expectations, and it wasn't as if he had ever expected Jayen to give that up for him, but sometimes his obtuseness was beyond the level of ordinary mortals. "I worked eighty hours last week, that's how free I am," Vico said. "I'm not spending my downtime with a bunch of assholes who hate me. That's not my idea of a relaxing time."

"No one hates you as much as you think. Gods, if you'd make even the tiniest effort—you used to try."

"Yeah, and I got tired of beating my head against a brick wall for nothing. I'm sure as hell not hanging out in the vicinity of Torrance McKellen for any gods damned reason, or did you forget what he did?"

"I didn't forget," Jayen muttered, crossing his arms and looking away. "But that was ages ago, and she's not even here to be upset about it, is she? How can you still be so hung up on someone who disappeared on you without a word a decade ago?"

That was exactly the wrong thing to say. Vico's bond with Seya had been a constant point of contention throughout the entirety of their relationship, even long after she was gone, and hearing it dismissed so bluntly was the last straw. He pulled off the fire charm, and flung it at Jayen. "I've been meaning to give this back to you. Now get out of my way, I'm going home."

Jayen caught it, hurt flashing in his eyes briefly. Then his usual anger took over. "What would I do with this?" he snapped, stepping across the room and tossing it down on Vico's desk. "If you don't want it anymore, just throw it away already."

Vico swept it off the desk into the waste basket and shoved past him, stalking out of the office.

Jayen came after him a moment later. "Damn it, Vico, wait!"

"Shut up, Jayen, I’m not in the mood for this again. Stop following me."

The anger flickered brighter in Jayen's aura. "I'm not following you, I'm going up to my office." He stormed up the stairs, his footfalls reverberating in the stairwell. Part of Vico wanted to go after him, apologize for losing his temper—but what was the point? Even if he and Jayen remained on good, or at least civil terms, it wouldn’t change anything. He’d still be that Sancerre bastard, and Jayen would still be the Malthusius heir, and the politics of their clan would still make it impossible for them to be happy together. 

A muddy exhaustion settled over him just thinking about it all. He gripped the corner of the wall and took a deep breath, forcing himself back to center before he went downstairs. It was hard to resist belting Tor in his smug face as he passed through the common room again on his way out, but he managed—without Jayen or one of the other crew leaders around to keep him in check, Tor had a tendency to get nasty. Vico could have taken him in a fight anytime, but he didn't have the energy to deal with the inevitable consequences. The McKellen were a high tier family in the clan, and they had barely tolerated him when he and Jayen had been together. Since the abrupt and very public dissolution of their relationship late last summer, they had been leaning on Vico harder and harder, trying to drive him out. They had Addison, Corin's second, in their corner, too. Only Vico's stubborn pride had kept him in Starling this long, and it was finally starting to wear thin.

He ran into Micah Callahan as he was going out the door. Micah was Jayen's oldest friend, and more importantly, his second, so he had been somewhat less than friendly towards Vico since their separation, though thankfully he refrained from the outright hostility of some of the other security personnel. He was flushed and breathless now, as if he'd run over from the garage, his eyes bright and anxious, his light, sandy-brown hair darkened with sweat. Vico assumed it was more trouble with the Bretinne automagic factory they were trying to open on the edge of town, an enterprise that had been plagued with problems from the start. If it was, he'd hear about it tomorrow, if he bothered to come back. 

Vico nodded to him perfunctorily, and was startled when Micah caught him by the arm instead of passing him by. "Vico! Is Corin still here?"

"Yeah, in his office, I think. The door was closed, might want to wait until tomorrow to give him any bad news. He was angry about something earlier, we could feel it all through the damn bond."

"I don't know if this qualifies. Did you know? That she was back?"

"Who? Not Lady Vetiver?" That didn't seem like anything to get excited about to Vico, but then, he'd never had much patience for the sort of stupid clan rivalry that had driven the Vetiver clan out of Starling the year before.

"No, Seya!"

The name was like a shock of ice water to Vico's heart. He stared at Micah. "What?"

"You two had that bond, I would have thought you'd be the first to know."

"You—you saw her?" Vico said. He couldn't wrap his brain around the idea. "Where?" When Micah hesitated, Vico grabbed his arm. "Where!"

"On Old Main, near Halcyon," Micah said, shaking him off.

"You're sure?" Vico said. "You actually saw her?"

"I'm sure. It's been a hell of a long time, but how could anyone forget that crazy magic of hers? She hasn't changed at all that way. Wait—Vico, we should talk to Corin first—"

It was too late. Vico was already tearing down the walk to the gate.


	3. In which there is an unexpected reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Discussion of past child abuse

As she was walking away from Halcyon, it occurred to Seya that she probably could have gotten some food out of the encounter, but she couldn't bring herself to go back inside. At the very least she ought to have asked if Aren was still in town. He must know how to get in touch with his mother. Maybe she could go back tomorrow. Or maybe Aren had taken over Dalen's clinic. He'd just started training to become a healer like his father when she left, so it didn't seem such a stretch. Though with Winter gone, and the school in Montreides hands, maybe it was.

She paced around the neighborhood, kicking herself mentally—what had she expected, anyway? If the reason Winter was gone had been any less tragic, she might have been a bit relieved to be spared the humiliation of being thrown out of Halcyon for good. And possibly having the guard called on her. But it was too complete a blow, having this last chance and the one inarguably decent father figure she'd ever had both gone. She couldn't even go to the temple where he'd been laid to rest to make an apology offering, because it was half an ocean away.

She flopped down on a bench to try and think. She couldn't deal with the grief yet, but there was some powerful guilt kicking up in her for thinking about how thoroughly this had ruined her chances. Could she make it to Thelassa? The problem with that was all the people she knew who could have helped her were either dead or out of the country for the foreseeable future.

Probably if she just thought about it she could find other people she'd known, but none who could give her what she really needed, which was someone willing to overlook her lack of a proper pinnacle and give her a real job. Magic was pretty much all she knew—all she had. There wasn't enough money in anything else to get all the way to Thelassa, even if she could cross the border without giving herself away to the military, or worse, DeGraffenreid. He was the main reason she hadn't wanted to rely on anyone but Winter. It had taken months to persuade herself to do it; the last time she'd involved people in her life, it had ended badly. Very, very badly.

It had taken the army six weeks to put out the fire in Keraday.

Just thinking about that made her nervous enough to get up and walk right back out of town immediately, but she was so tired from walking all day, all week, she couldn't summon the energy. She didn't know what to do. A stranger loitering around town after dark was an open invitation to get picked up by the guard for suspicious activity, but so was sleeping on a bench in a park, though that was looking more and more like how things were going to play out. She slouched against the back of the bench and put her hands over her eyes. Maybe if she was sobbing hysterically when the guard found her they'd leave her alone.

More likely they'd drag her to one of the temples in town, an idea that sent a shudder of dread through her. It would be fine, she told herself. She'd rest a bit, just a couple hours, or until someone came to bother her. It wasn't like people could sneak up on her, not with her spiritual sense. She reduced her external shields a bit, just in case, and laid her head on the back of the bench, one arm cradled over her bag out of habit, even though there was nothing worth taking in it. It was a quiet night, thankfully, and the area had a fairly calm resonance. If she looked at the surrounding energy as a meditative exercise, it was almost relaxing. The feel of the concrete under her feet, still warm from the heat of the day and humming with the resonance of the pedestrians who frequented it—things always soaked up a bit of the people who used them. The bench also had a nice feeling, restful, having been rather adopted by the spirits of the trees that shaded it. There were the safety wards lining the edges of the street—the standard ones, which meant this part of town was under city administration rather than a clan. An underground elemental line nearby, earth-seated, the heavy energy quiet in the evening with so few people drawing from it. The light from the streetlamp on the corner gave off a faint warmth at the edge of her interior-shielded sense range. She closed her eyes and let it all wash over her, until it blended into a background hum that was easy enough to tune out.

A couple of hours at most, she thought. Then—what? She still didn't know. But she wouldn't think of that. Not yet.

She wasn't quite asleep when the sound of footsteps intruding on the quiet shocked her awake. A blast of bright blue light arced through the corner of her vision. She dove off the bench so fast she knocked her bag onto the ground, reflexively throwing up a defensive shield and reaching for what energy was available to strike back—but there were only two people in the world who knew her magic well enough to get around her sense when it was open like that. One was DeGraffenreid, who was, according to the newspapers, still wreaking havoc somewhere near Chelsa. The other was standing a few feet away, illuminated briefly by the blue sparks splintering harmlessly across the stretch of asphalt between them. The person she had wanted to see the least upon coming back to Starling, and the most. His fair skin was a little more freckled than she remembered, and he had gotten taller. The fine-boned features that had gotten him mistaken for a girl more than once when they were children had matured into something sharply attractive despite the scar his bastard of a father had given him. He was raking his fingers through his vibrant, unruly red hair—he never could keep them out of it—his pale green eyes bright with emotion.

She was so surprised she lost her concentration on the shield. "That's a good way to get killed, Vico!" she said, tensing as he advanced on her. His emotions ran a gamut—anger, disbelief, bewilderment, grief—anger—before he remembered to rein them back for her, an old reflex that surprised both of them. A smile stole slowly across his lips as he settled on happy relief.

"I knew you couldn't be dead," he said.

She moved back a pace at his swift advance, backing into the bench and reaching from long habit for her lost shield. Vico had been her best friend and only reliable ally since they were seven years old, but she also knew better than most how a decade could change a person. Plus things had been a little strained between them right before everything happened, on account of his blossoming relationship with Jayen.

Vico ignored her hesitation and threw his arms around her in a crushing hug. With the physical contact she got a very clear picture of his emotional state, the weight of his feelings even stronger than his arms around her. Normally she avoided letting people get within touching distance of her for just that reason, but this was Vico. Her bond brother. No, former bond brother—she had severed that connection herself, even if it had been like tearing out half her heart to do it. No matter how much time had passed, no matter how much his feelings grated against her raw, exhausted sense, even if he ended up swearing her up and down the whole town, she couldn't push him away. He was very deliberately putting his more positive feelings at the forefront for her, and that consideration amazed her into speechlessness. She threw her arms around him, burying her face against his shoulder. Like that first moment at Halcyon, she felt, just a bit, like she had come home, the same wrenching, bittersweet feeling.

"I didn't quite believe it when Micah said he'd seen you," he said, and his voice was tight enough to break. He released her and held her out at arm's length, looking her up and down, reaching out experimentally with his sense as if he was trying to connect to some faint, frayed thread of their old bond, but after all this time it was well and truly gone. She felt his pang of regret for that, and more than just a pang of anger. Seya crossed her arms and looked away. She knew she deserved nothing of the careless, cheerful smile he pasted on like a mask, nothing of the care with which he tucked his more negative feelings away from her. He flopped down on the bench like a great, oversized cat and grinned up at her. "You look like hell, Seya." He patted the bench next to him.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and dug for her voice. "Too bad I can't say the same," she said as she sat. His right hand rested on his knee, and she could see his pinnacle mark. Malthusius.

He saw her looking and shrugged, with a smile that savored strongly of bitterness. "I know, right? But there weren't a lot of options with a war on. You can't really tell now, but the town was pretty torn up by the time it all settled down here."

"I wasn't judging," she said. She have the right, not after everything. Didn't have to like it, though. "Does that mean you and Jayen are still…"

His smile twisted into a grimace. "Not as such."

"I'm sorry." She tried to sound like she meant it.

He shrugged again, rolling his eyes expressively. "Ah, you know Jayen. He hasn't changed much."

"Color me shocked," she said.

"I guess you went by the school."

"Yeah. Heard about Winter and Dalen."

"Damn shame about that, you know?" He broke off, eyes glittering with tears. "Not too many people like them around."

"Yeah." Between Dalen and Vico, she felt like the worst person alive.

"Corin went a little off after she left. Got him in the pride, I think. He tried to hassle the new schoolmaster into selling him the property after she left but that didn't work. He won't fight any duels that are offered to him, plus he still has connections to Montreides. Apparently Winter went back home to recruit him after Dalen took ill, trained him to inherit the school."

"Winter actually went home?" As far as Seya remembered, she had refused all form of communication with the Montreides after she left them, and they hadn't exactly been beating down her door over it.

"It was the talk of the town. He's the illegitimate son of Montreides' current bondmaster."

"He seems like a nice guy, I guess."

"Oh, you met him?"

"Briefly."

"He's a decent sort. I haven't actually met him, but I live nearby, so I see him walking around the neighborhood on his errands sometimes. Way more like Dalen than Winter, from what I've heard. People like him. Not too bad on the eyes, either."

"Hmm," she returned, noncommittally—it had been too dark to really see him well, but she did remember his kind, dark eyes, and the genuine concern in his aura.

"So…you're back," said Vico.

"What? Oh, well yeah, for the moment. I came back to see Winter about—" She hesitated as a sharp ache lanced through her left arm, up from her gloved hand. "—some stuff." Smooth, she thought with a grimace. Vico wasn't an idiot. She let her left hand slip down out of his line of sight. The glove covered most of the scarring, but hiding it was a strongly ingrained habit.

"Oh," he said, looking away. He had composed himself and his shields while they spoke, enough that she couldn't read his tone or his aura anymore. "Where are you staying?" he asked.

"Well, this bench seems comfortable enough," she said. "And, you know. Cheap."

"Come on, Seya, that's not safe. There's been a lot of shit going on around here lately. You can stay with me."

"I don't want to impose," she said.

"Impose! What the hell is that?!"

"It's been a long time, Vico. Things are different now. I don't want to cause problems—"

She had to stop because he reached over and smacked her lightly upside the head, exactly the way he had always done when they were teenagers and she had said something particularly stupid. "How long did I live with you after my father nearly killed me the first time? Impose." He scoffed. "Get off your ass, you're coming with me! And you're taking a bath first, because you are not sleeping on my couch looking like some kind of gods damned derelict!"

It was hard to argue with that logic. And she had to admit she really did want that bath. The offer of his couch was so much more than she had hoped for the end of this terrible day that she was hard pressed not to break down in front of him. She managed it, though. Barely. "Okay," she said, her voice flat and hoarse with the effort.

She leaned down to pick up her bag with hands still shaking from adrenaline and the fact that she hadn't eaten anything since morning. Vico immediately took it away and threw it over his own shoulder—a safeguard against her changing her mind, she realized. It was kind of touching, and exactly the kind of subtly manipulative thing he would do.

He put his arm over her shoulder and half-dragged her along. His weight felt warm and familiar despite the niggling sensation of all the feelings he was suppressing on her behalf. She had missed that anchoring presence so much. Of course without the bond he couldn't be her anchor anymore, but she had gone so long without so much as a friendly touch that she could not resent the discomfort. Ten years, she thought. Ten years worth of him that she had missed. She refrained from prying too deeply into his feelings, or asking the awkward but necessary questions—like whether or not he was going to tell Corin she was back, and how he had managed to become Malthusius bonded in the first place, when Corin had hated his Sancerre blood like poison. And why he wasn't unloading on her the way she'd expected. And what else he was upset about, because she could tell it wasn't just her. His aura was a tangled mess underneath all that outward composure.

She looked up at him—it was strange that she had to look up at him, the last time she'd seen him they'd been about the same height. "How'd you get so stupidly tall?" she asked, leaning into him against her better judgement.

He laughed. "Late bloomer. Jealous?"

"No, it's just weird."

"Meanwhile you're still the same damn twig of a thing," he said, but after a moment the flash of humor faded out, replaced by concern. He looked down at her, and the question was there. Without their bond to filter everything through, he couldn't quite keep things away, not when they were this close, so he had to know she could feel the weight of it between them. He didn't ask, at least not out loud, and she didn't answer, just let him pull her along as she clutched at her shields with all the control she could muster.

Vico refused to let go of her until they got to his place, as if afraid she would evaporate if he so much as looked away too long. Probably not an unreasonable fear, if she were to be honest. In between the relief and exhaustion was a growing anxiety that this was a mistake, that she shouldn't involve him, that he would be better off if she stopped this now, before she hurt him again.

His place proved to be a cramped one bedroom apartment in an older complex belonging to the Malthusius, on the third floor, overlooking the street below and an even older residential area across the way, a heavily Malthusius-affiliated spot. She could tell by the lines, heavy with the earth and fire seated magic of the Malthusius bond. Vico waved at the spare, modest interior as he ushered her in. "I'd give you a tour, but this is pretty much it," he said dryly. "Bath is through here." He pushed her through the bedroom and into the bathroom. "You can drop your clothes outside the door there, I'll put them in the wash for you. And the rest of this," he added, and she winced at his expression as he studied the contents of her bag—all clothes, all travel-dusty, stained, patched—it had been a hard few months. She made a vague sound of acquiescence and shut the door behind her, but it was only after he left the bedroom that she locked the door and began to strip. She didn't want him to bang in unexpectedly and see something that would complicate things. Like the network of scars on her left hand. She hadn't taken the glove off for more than the few minutes it took to renew the wards since Keraday. Taking it off now, she avoided looking at them herself, tossing the glove into the sink and starting a shower. She scrubbed under the hottest water she could stand, then ran herself a tub full and sank into it with a moan of pure pleasure. Gods, but she had missed proper baths.

She was practically asleep in the water when Vico came tapping at the door. "You're hungry," he said.

Not a question. Seya winced again; she had never been able to break the habit of projecting whenever she let her guard down even a little. "I haven't eaten anything since this morning," she said, a little ashamed at how needy she sounded.

There was a frisson of distress from him at this revelation. Tears sprang into her eyes. "I'll make you something," he said.

"Thank you," she said, around the tightness in her throat. She hoped he wouldn't notice, but it was Vico. Of course he noticed.

"Sure," he said, softly. "Anything, love."

The tears spilled over at being called that again after so long. "Thank you," she said, her voice barely audible to herself. "I'm sorry," she added, even more quietly, but he did not hear that because she had waited until he was gone to say it.

Before she left, she'd have to find some way to say it to his face.


	4. In which there is some awkwardness, a lot of complicated feelings, and also clan politics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Notes: complicated parent-child relationships

She wasn't staying. She hadn't said so yet, but even without a bond to provide him with a direct connection to her feelings, Vico could still tell which way the wind was blowing. Ten years, he reflected, glancing over his shoulder at where Seya was sitting, curled up in a little ball on the couch with her arms around her knees. It was enough time for everything to get awkward. There had never been anything awkward between them, they had been bonded too long and from far too young an age for that.

It might have been because she wasn't talking very much. Food and sleep had taken the edge off the terrible desperation he'd picked up hints of the night before, and she was on guard now. On guard against him. Because of his clan bond or just all the stuff that had been going down right before she disappeared? Some part of him still clung to the initial anger—if she had been alive all these years, why hadn't she come home? Where had she been? The rest of him was remembering what he'd said right before she turned up missing, and feeling guilty for it, but he also didn't think anything he'd said back then was grounds for abandoning him in the worst possible way. Having a bond—not some constructed thing like a pinnacle or a clan bond, but something they'd built together—it was like sharing a heart. It wasn't a connection that could just be thrown away.

And he had a feeling, like there was something wrong with her magic. Her shields were up too high for him to get a good read, but he still had a sense of something slightly off, and she was hiding something on her left hand. The fact that he hadn't noticed before meant she was actively hiding it from him. He'd gotten an impression of a ward or something similar coming off it, and after watching covertly for a while, he'd noticed that she favored that hand slightly. She was right-handed so it wasn't obvious, but now that he had noticed it, it nagged at him. He put that aside for the moment as he made breakfast. It was his nature to poke at a problem until he figured it out, but there was a tension in her like she was about to bolt. He would have to proceed with caution.

Over breakfast he kept up a rambling commentary—what their old friends were doing now, things that had changed around town since she'd left. If Seya noted his careful avoidance of everything Malthusius, she said nothing. He was in no hurry to damp the fragile happiness of their reunion with serious talk. It had been too many years, and however happy he was to see her, they were both different people now. Sometimes he thought he caught a hint of the fearless, fiery girl she had been before, but the pale, tense person huddled in wall-like shields on his couch was a stranger.

He broke off, frowning at her as she suddenly went unnaturally still, her right hand around her left wrist in a knuckle-whitening grip, her face pale and frighteningly blank. "Are you okay?" he asked, going back over what he had said, trying to figure out what had set her off. It all seemed fairly benign.

She unclenched her jaw to take a sharp breath, her shields going practically opaque, blocking out the sparks of pain and distress in her aura. "I'm fine," she said tightly. "Go on. Talbot. Our old landlord."

His eyes narrowed. "He died a couple years into the restructuring, and Jezzie sold off a lot of their holdings to a new guy that showed up—Jas Albrecht. It seems he's gunning for clan status. Been trying to move in on our territory—" He hesitated, trying to gauge her reaction to his mention of clan business.

"Oh?" she said, sipping her tea. There was a long silence. She was not pleased, no matter what she had said the night before. Well, he wasn’t exactly pleased with everything himself just now. The silence grew tense, the two of them shielded like a pair of enemies caged together.

Vico broke the silence first. "Seya—" To his intense aggravation, Jayen chose just then to ping him through the Malthusius bond. Vico let out an exasperated breath. "Hold on," he muttered, and tuned in.

-what do you want-

-Dad wants to see you. hurry up, I'm waiting outside to drive you-

Jayen ended the connection curtly, his mental tone leaving irritable traces. Vico could imagine why, though Jayen was taking it better than he'd thought. He'd expected Jayen to be beating on his door at some unholy hour of the morning, since he'd unplugged his phone the night before and set his shields to shut out his clan bond for the night.

He wondered, briefly, if it would be worth the trouble to just not show up, and then dismissed the idea. Seya's presence was a game changer. Even if Vico had pretty much given up on the game, he did need to know what was going to happen before he made any livelihood-altering decisions. Hell, he didn't even know if she'd still be there when he got back. "Apparently I've been summoned. Think you'll be okay here by yourself for a while? I have no idea when I'll be back, but it'll be as soon as possible."

"Sure," she said. He couldn't tell if she was lying, but it felt like it. He stared at her for a long moment, then went to his room to change.

❀

Seya got up and went to the window, frowning down at the flashy black car parked on the curb below—even the Malthusius fleet cars were absurdly pretentious. Wouldn't want anyone to forget Corin owns half the town, she thought scathingly. Jayen was leaning on the door, scowling up at the apartment. He hadn't changed much. A bit taller, and broader across the shoulders now, his dark hair shorter, his light golden brown skin deepened to bronze—from spending hours out in the circle, she had no doubt. Even at the distance and through Vico's wards she could feel the echo of his magic, brusque and heavy but well-controlled, still largely elemental in nature, the spiritual side barely shored up by his clan bond. High tier, though. Vico had mentioned, briefly, that Corin had finally named him as the official heir. She wondered if Vico had told him she was here; he was scowling up at the window as if he could see through the extra wards Vico had laid on the windows to preserve his privacy.

Seya brushed her fingertips against the glass to touch the spellwork. Vico had used his own magic on the innermost layer of the protections, no traces of the Malthusius bond in the energy that powered the rest seeping through. It felt felt much the same as she remembered, a little more mature, but still brisk and orderly and meticulous and slightly contrary, laced with the stubborn, fiery edge that was unique to him. The familiarity stung at her eyes and tightened her throat. She leaned her arm on the window and rested her forehead against it with a sigh.

Leaving again was going to break what little was left of her heart.

When Vico came out of his room, buttoning his shirt cuffs and swearing under his breath at being pinged a third time, Seya was collecting the breakfast dishes. The least she could do was clean up after being put up for the night.

Before he left, Vico plugged his phone back in. "I'm leaving the dial sigil for my office here, in case you need anything. You don't need to tell the operator who you are. Just ask for me." He dropped his business card down next to the phone.

"Sure," she said.

"I don't have anything left for lunch here, so here's some money." He pulled a thin bundle of small bills out of his pocket and set it on the table.

"Thanks," she said, but she didn't move to take it. She felt utterly revolted with herself for thinking of how much she would need it when she left.

"Well, see you later." There was an insistent inflection in his tone, as if speaking it like a spell would cast it true.

"For everything," she said.

His shoulders slumped. "Look, I know this is awkward as hell after all this time," he began.

She laughed with her back to him as she stacked the dishes in the sink. "You think?"

He glanced back with a frown. "We’ll talk about things when I get back," he said. "If I can get away, I'll come back on my lunch break." She didn't say anything to that. The door slammed behind him, and she winced. She hadn't wanted to leave without saying goodbye again. And she hadn't even apologized yet.

She could leave a note. How much angrier would he be if she did that? Maybe it would be easier if he stayed angry.

Just thinking that made her feel dirty. Severing a bond hurt both sides, and she felt the phantom ache of their old connection worse than ever as his presence faded out of the range of her sense. Coming back to Starling was shaping up to be exactly as terrible an idea as she had imagined.

❀

"I told you you were going to get in trouble over this," Jayen said, and threw something at Vico as he crossed the sidewalk to the car.

Vico caught it—his Malthusius sigil. He rolled his eyes and pinned it to his collar. "Why are you standing out in the street alone?" He wasn't supposed to be outside the compound without one of his security people to act as bodyguard; someone had tried to kill him a few weeks before. Of course, being Jayen, he had taken it more as a personal affront than an actual threat.

"I'm not alone," Jayen said, and when he opened the door, Vico could see Micah in the passenger seat. "What do you care, anyway?"

"The fact that you're kind of a bastard doesn't necessarily equate to me wanting to see you dead practically on my doorstep. Get in the damn car already." Vico got in the back seat and belted himself in, throwing Micah a reproachful look. "And why are you letting him stand out there like a target?"

"Are you kidding? I made him get out because he wouldn't stop whining. Apparently you hurt his feelings yesterday, so thanks for that."

"You shut the hell up, Micah," Jayen snapped. Vico waited for an explosion of temper about Seya, but Jayen started the car and drove away without speaking to either of them again.

He was sullen, but not truly angry, Vico decided. He pinged Micah through the clan bond.

-you didn't tell him?-

Micah looked out the window. At first Vico thought he wasn't going to answer, or perhaps that he couldn't, but then:

-the old man wants it kept quiet-

Which meant there were going to be some bullshit clan politics involved in Seya's reappearance, just like Vico had been thinking. Probably it was a bad sign that Corin was keeping it from his son, even if it was the smart thing to do. Jayen was forthright to a fault, and he did not do quiet.

-is she with you?-

Vico didn't answer. He was still trying to decide how to proceed himself. Micah was a decent guy, but he was clan-born. He was pretty sure Micah would feel obligated to tell Corin, or Jayen, at the very least. Perhaps not now, but as soon as he could get away with it.

Jayen scowled at them both. He'd be able to tell they were using the bond connection to talk, but because of his limited spiritual magic, he couldn't tune in to their conversation without being invited. "Since when did you two get so chummy?"

Micah rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry, am I not supposed to talk to him anymore, ever? It's been almost a year. The two of you could try a little harder to get along. For everyone else's sake, at least."

"Nobody is all that torn up about taking his side against me," Vico said. "You sure weren't."

"Weren't you the one who decided you two should try to be friends?" Micah said.

"You know what, I think I liked it better when you were just taking his side and not talking to me," Vico said, pulling the Bretinne file out of his bag to distract himself until they arrived at the compound. He had an appointment with the city permit office to prepare for.

To his annoyance, Jayen followed him upstairs to Corin's office. "You enjoy watching me get yelled at that much?"

Jayen threw him another scowl. "I have business here too." Not precisely a lie, but not the whole truth, either. Vico looked away—he knew it was a tacit display of support. If Jayen was there, he could assume a portion of Corin's anger over whatever Vico was about to get in trouble for. He'd done it again and again over the last year, until Vico kind of wanted to strangle him. It was something Jayen would have done for anyone he was close to, but that's not what other people saw.

When they arrived at the office, Corin's secretary showed them in immediately. Inside, Corin was engaged in a heated discussion with someone; the words muffled by privacy wards, but the tension bled out into the bond network. A stilted silence fell as Lennette opened the door to announce them, and Vico stifled a sigh as he saw Addison was there. Corin might barely tolerate him, and half his fellow bonded might treat him like trash that blew in off the street, and he might have ruined whatever meager credit he had built up with the rest of them last year by breaking the heart of their heir presumptive, but Marc Addison was the true bane of his existence.

As Corin's second, Addison was in charge of managing the day-to-day operations of the clan's essential departments—Territorial, L&R, and Mediations—while Corin was busy looking after the bond magic and the business side of the clan. That meant Vico had him to blame for being stuck in the thankless hell that was Mediations. Not that Vico wasn't good at negotiating disputes for the Malthusius affiliates and sweet-talking potential new ones, but it was tedious, time-consuming work, and there was very little magic involved—and therefore next to no status to be gained no matter how well he did at it. He still fumed every time he remembered how Addison had dismissed his request to be transferred to L&R, mocking his levels as unworthy of being moved up to the first tier of the bond before relegating him to his current job. So what if his levels were only average? He was a damn good mage, thanks to the way he’d had to work his ass off to keep up with Seya and her outrageous, early-onset levels. If they had put him on first tier, he'd be high-equivalent, and everyone knew it. Addison just hated him, unreasonably, for his connection to a clan that had been sundered when Vico was an infant.

Addison regarded them both with barely concealed irritation. "Jayen, where is the report on the Miredes incident? I need it now."

"My secretary will bring it when it's time for our appointment," Jayen said, bristling the man's imperious tone. He did not get along with Addison either, because he was one of the most vocal opponents of Jayen taking over the bond magic. It was partly because he didn't think Jayen capable of managing it, but also because he was distantly related to the Malthusius bloodline, which put his daughter Karienne in the running for heir. Jayen had grown up having the idea of either a marital or a child-bargain alliance with her thrown at him constantly, and had refused both options in no uncertain terms upon coming of age. Since then, Addison had been campaigning hard with the high tier to make sure Jayen wasn't found eligible to inherit. Corin hadn't tried to settle the dispute. He wanted his son to prove himself worthy of the clan on his own. That meant learning to negotiate his own political landmines. Unfortunately, Jayen was hopeless at politics. Vico felt a familiar twitch of guilt for having abandoned Jayen to deal with that all on his own.

"Now," Addison said, his eyes dropping disdainfully back to the papers in his hands.

Jayen looked to his father. Corin did not look up from his own work as he sent a mild rebuke at his son through the clan bond to dismiss him. Jayen curled his lip and left. He knew he was being gotten out of the way, and he didn't like it. Vico was the only one paying enough attention to notice the little shiver of worry in Jayen’s aura as the door shut behind him.

Once Jayen was gone, Corin finally looked up. He was a broad-built man, not tall, but powerful, his face a stern mask, its square-boned structure well-lined though he was only forty-six years old. His light brown hair was lightly sprinkled with white, his gray eyes sharp and cold as steel. He had the fair Talese coloring, not as pale as Vico, but there was nothing of the Caldi in him, even though Malthusius had been an established clan in Caldona for nearly seventy years, one of the many refugee groups from the Talese Isles invited to resettle there after fleeing the Arisi Conquerer's armies during the Second Wave.

He was a hard man, having assumed control of his clan at the age of twenty after his mother, the previous bondmaster, had been killed protecting her bonded from a coup by the Sancerre. The attack had been led by Vico's uncle, a fact that had counted against him every day of his life despite his not having been born yet when it happened. Living as Malthusius-bonded for eight years, as the heir's partner, even, had done nothing to diminish the resentment his Sancerre blood engendered from the older Malthusius. Vico could see it in Corin's eyes every time he looked at him. Corin might tolerate him because Jayen had spoken for him, but Vico knew he was only still alive to appreciate that because of his connection to Seya.

Corin's aura was sparking with that resentment now, and his voice was a restrained growl when he finally spoke. "Young Callahan said he saw my daughter last night."

Your alleged daughter? Vico thought, more out of old loyalty than any real conviction. The surest way to piss Seya off had always been to bring up that subject. Legally, Seya had no father, but that hadn't stopped Corin from trying to claim her any more than Seya's own clear loathing of the man.

Corin fixed his sense on Vico, focusing on the threads of elaborately intertwined spiritual and elemental magic that linked the Malthusius bonded, looking for an answer, a reaction, anything. But Vico had learned years ago that a clan bond was not like a natural bond. It wasn't possible to tell a lie through either type, but if he did not volunteer information, Corin couldn't tell he was lying by omission. Vico was good at keeping things out of the bond—another thing for which he had Seya to thank. He'd had to learn how to do that for her. Nothing he might've owed to Malthusius could match what he owed Seya, even if she had abandoned him, even if she was already gone. So he shrugged and said, in a noncommittal tone, "He told me."

"And you saw her?" Corin said.

"I did. Near Halcyon," Vico said.

Corin sat back, struggling to contain some strong emotion. Vico studied his face covertly, but Corin was one of the few people he had difficulty reading—the man was too used to keeping his guard up. It might have been anger, relief, fear, regret, or some combination of any or all of them.

"And where is she now?"

Vico shrugged again. "It's anyone's guess." It was true enough. He had no idea if she was still at his apartment, after all.

Corin probed at him through the clan bond a moment, then sat back, his face set. "If you see her again, I want to know. There may be something in it for you if you were to cooperate."

Vico's eyebrows went up. Bribery rather than threats? That was new. "I'll keep that in mind," he said. He could feel Addison's predatory attention on him, and the slight rebuke Corin leveled at the man when he opened his mouth. If he was tiptoeing around Vico this way, that had to mean he was serious about wanting to talk to Seya, and afraid that alienating him would damage that prospect. It was an unexpected advantage, and Vico intended to make the most of it.

"See that you do. Dismissed."

On his way to Mediations, Vico debated with himself about his next course of action. If this thing with Seya was giving him some leverage, he might be able to get away with blowing off work for the day. But if he was being monitored, that would be a dead giveaway, and he was pretty sure the first sign of Malthusius interference would send Seya packing without so much as a goodbye. And there was that appointment with the city inspector about the automagic installation for Bretinne that was supposed to happen at the end of the week, and he still had to talk to L&R about the reports for it. If he didn't do at least that much today there would be hell to pay later. Marten was already breathing down his neck about those damned permits. He could get it all done before lunch and knock off early, make sure Seya hadn't already vanished again.

❀

Jayen returned to the fourth floor just in time to see Vico leaving his father's office. Vico was good at keeping his feelings to himself when he wanted to, but he did not look like a man who had just been dressed down for insubordination. He was slightly more animated than usual, actually, and Jayen felt a little spark of something that might have been panic for what it might mean.

"Boss, we're going to be late," Hanna said.

"I'm coming," he said, because he could hardly follow Vico down the hall and demand an answer out of him now. What would Vico have done? He turned the problem over in his mind. As Hanna flirted with Lennette while they waited to be shown in, an idea occurred to him. He reached for the files Hanna held. She handed them over, surprised.

-Hanna, see if you can't sweet-talk whatever Dad and Vico were talking about out of Lenette. discreetly, though-

Hanna looked intrigued.

-right now?-

-no, no rush, just whenever you have time today. Take her to lunch on me or something-

He slipped her a few bills to cover it.

"Yes sir," she said, tucking them into her pocket and following him into the office with a grin.


	5. In which Zan gives a history lesson and goes shopping, and Seya investigates a couple of oddities and attempts to get some lunch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t think there are any content warnings needed on this chapter but do let me know if I’m wrong.
> 
> I apologize for flaking out last week; the holidays are a truly horrible time for those of us who work in customer service. Two chapters today to make up for it, though. Happy New Year!

Seya spent half the morning debating the ethics of taking Vico's money and running. After his unexpected welcoming, the mere idea of it felt like a gross betrayal. She had finished her tea, cleaned the kitchen, poked around the entirety of the tiny, shabby apartment, and still felt no closer to a decision. As she unfolded the bills to count them, the key charm to the apartment fell out onto the table. "You sneaky bastard," she said, unexpectedly touched and slightly annoyed by the blatant attempt to manipulate her—of course she couldn't leave him without a way to get back into his apartment. She almost left it there, but then she sighed and put it in her pocket with the money. Locking up after herself, she went to have a turn about her old hometown in the daylight.

She tried to keep a low profile as she walked through the neighborhood. Worry plagued her—would Corin would be angry with Vico for helping her, or worse, use his authority to to force Vico into an attempt to persuade her to join the clan? There were very few things she wouldn't do for her bond-brother, but that was one of them. She didn't know if leaving before such a thing had a chance to play out would make things better for him, or worse.

Not that I could stay to find out anyway, she thought, and sighed. It was so tempting to stick around, let someone take care of her for a little while—she was so tired of running, and sick to death of being alone. But it wasn't worth the risk.

Still, with a good night's sleep and some real food in her for the first time in a week, she felt cautiously optimistic of her chances. She would look up Aren, she decided; Vico had told her he'd taken over Halcyon Clinic. He would be able to tell her where his mother was, and she'd figure something out. She always did.

That was the plan, anyway. As she paced through the streets, trying to remember the way to the clinic, she kept catching that sense of persistent wrongness in the city's ambient energy. Last night she had chalked it up to the residual effects of the burnt-out factory and all the new industrialization. Now she wasn't so sure.

A certain amount of dissonance was normal wherever there were people to disturb the natural lines and resonances of a place; the thousands of minor conflicts of magics and aural resonances caused the energies to move and intersect in ways that weren't always in harmony. The sensation was the magical equivalent of nails on a chalkboard to her over-strong sense. This one was subtle, a faint undercurrent mostly hidden in the humming, everyday energy of the city's aura. She only noticed it because she was keeping an eye for just such dissonance. If DeGraffenreid did have eyes in Starling, she'd sense the dissonance unique to his coercion bonds eventually.

This…was not his. But after studying the energy for a while, she decided it was enough like it that she abandoned her original objective and started circling out from where she was to get a more thorough sense of it.

❀

Zan paced along the low wall that surrounded the Halcyon property, ostensibly finishing the ward check he'd left off the night before, but his eyes moved over the streets and alleys that circled the property without really seeing them. The brief encounter with the mysterious girl the night before bothered him far more than he felt he had any reason to be. He didn't think he had ever seen her before, although the dark had made it difficult to be certain. Her shaken reaction to the news of Dalen's death and Winter's departure had seemed genuine and that momentary sense of someone utterly lost stayed with him. It reminded him of too much of himself, before he had come to Halcyon, for him to put it out of his mind.

He looked up and realized he had come all the way back to the front gate with no memory of half the walk. He shook his head at his absentmindedness and went back around to do a proper check. When he had satisfied himself on that the school's protections were all in place and fully operative, he went to the kitchen to start breakfast.

He found Adiel had already started it. Again.

"You're late today, Master Zan," Adiel said.

"I'm sorry, Adiel, I'm afraid I was a little distracted this morning."

"Did something happen?"

"No, it's nothing." He put on a kettle for tea. "You know don't have to make breakfast every morning."

"Yeah, you keep telling me that," Adiel said. "But you're letting me stay here for free. The least I can do is help out. You work too hard."

Adiel had been one Zan's first students after he had taken over the school from his aunt. He had been fostered at the school for almost a year, since his parents had died in an accident, and technically, it wasn't for free, as the government paid a stipend to Halcyon for his care. "You don't need to worry so much. The school isn't that badly off, and I enjoy my work."

"Someone ought to worry, though. You're too nice! If I wasn't here, people would just walk all over you. Don't think I didn't hear about the Lacelle kids coming in an hour early every day this week because their grandmother is working different shifts at her job."

"It's not an imposition. I truly do not mind looking after them. They're both good kids."

Adiel groaned. "This is what I'm talking about. You don't even think you're being imposed on!"

Zan smiled. "Thank you for worrying, but it really is fine. However, I will need to go to the market if we're feeding four today."

They went though the usual morning chores first: cleaning the kitchen, resetting the housekeeping spells that had started to dissipate, setting watering spells in the garden, checking in with the older spirits for any dissonance that might have cropped up in Halcyon's lines. Nothing too strenuous. A routine morning, except for the feeling nagging at the edge of Zan's sense, like there was something missing, though he could not have said precisely what, when everything felt just as it always had since he'd come to work at Halcyon five years before. It had felt like that since the strange girl left the night before.

Adiel insisted on coming with him to the market. "You're terrible at haggling," he said. Zan just smiled and agreed that this was probably true. As the son of a high clan, he'd never had to shop in a common market for himself or anyone else before coming to Starling.

It was already quite warm out when they set out. There was a car with a heavily warded energy signature parked across the street.

"Master Zan…"

"I see it," Zan said, pausing to shut the wards on the gate. He wasn’t particularly worried, but he still moved between Adiel and the vehicle, and kept note of it in his sense until they had gone out of range.

"I'll bet it's Malthusius," Adiel said. "It's been a while since they sent someone to bother you about selling."

That was certainly a possibility, but it was also just as likely to be Zan's family, who made no secret of the fact that they were keeping tabs on him. His older sister Laurien had a habit of dropping in to remind him of just how many ways his selfishness was harming Montreides. They couldn't do anything to him that he couldn't handle, but he didn’t want them upsetting Adiel or any of his other students. He frowned into the distance, wondering if he should say something to Laurien next time she came. He tried to keep his interactions with his family civil, but there was a limit to how much he was willing to overlook.

Adiel misread his expression. "If it bothers you that much you should make a report to the guard," he said.

"I probably should. Though if it is Malthusius, I doubt it will do any good."

Adiel made a disgusted face. "What did we even have a war for if the clans can still do whatever they want?"

"Unfortunately, legal authority is not the only power in this world," Zan said. "And change, real, substantial change, does not come easily, especially to those with power. As a country, we have relied so long on the clan system that even those who wish change find themselves walled in by deeply entrenched traditions."

"You mean like the pinnacle system?" Adiel said.

"That's one example," Zan said. "The existing power structure still favors clan pinnacles over school pinnacles because clan magic is seen as stronger, and that's not entirely wrong, from a purely elemental point of view. You've never experienced the clan mindset firsthand, so it's harder for you to understand the culture of 'strength before everything' that pervades it."

"But you're clan and you've said yourself that strength isn't everything."

"It is true that I no longer believe that—I don't know that I ever did, really, I just wasn't given many other options growing up in the Montreides household. But that mindset did not come about by accident, either. It's rooted in our history with the Arisi conquerers and the immigrants fleeing their oppressive regime. They were taken in by the Caldi in the hopes of expanding our repertoire of magics, which then relied strongly on religious and familial bonds. The addition of the more technical aspects of elementalism changed our original clan structure and bond methods, and we used it to fortify Caldona against the Second Wave. The new magics complemented each other in a way the strictly regimented religious magic of the Arisi could not break, and that was the beginning of our modern clan system. It developed over the next thirty years into something like what we have now, but the focus then was on building strong bonds, per the original Caldi precepts. Then Third Wave brought about the cold war with the Arisi, and the clan system turned more toward 'strength' again, preparing for the coming fight."

"But we didn't have another actual war with the Arisi then."

"No, we didn't, but that brings us back to two the sad facts of human nature, that people with power do not give it up easily, and that fear can be a dangerously persuasive motivation," Zan said.

"That's not really fair though! The clan leaders were supposed to be taking care of the people, and they weren't, or the Uprisers wouldn't have been able to turn the whole country upside down. Even the king agreed the clan system was in the wrong. That's why he abdicated and gave the country over to the general. I understand that the clan leaders don't want to give up their power, but it was literally removed by the general after the March ended. Shouldn't they have given up then? My father always said the best thing to do would be to take their land and money, that would have ended the whole issue."

"The clan council fought tooth and nail to prevent that," said Zan. "The end result would have extended the war by years, and likely would have destroyed the spiritual resonances of this country irreparably. That is why General Raechs was willing to compromise; she knew we could not sustain that level of infighting."

"Meanwhile we're stuck with a barely functioning system until the remaining clan leaders decide to cooperate. Which will be never, according to you."

"Try to think about it from their point of view. The clans were our first line of defense for decades, and the military ranks were built largely out of the mages they raised and trained and pinnacled. Even after the decree that all people joining the military must take the military pinnacle, this was still true. And for all their flaws, the clans did the better part of the work maintaining the lines and resonances of Caldona. The vacuum left by the sundered clans made those powers vulnerable to exploitation."

Adiel blanched and looked away. Of course Adiel knew that, he had lost his parents to that kind of exploitation. The boy was silent for a long moment as he struggled to contain his emotions. Then he said, "But those—those sorts of things happened when the clans were in charge too."

"Yes, but the methods of recourse for such incidents were dismantled along with the clan's legal status as leaders and the sundering of the knights. The guard, as a new peacekeeping institution, is not well trusted, and still has a number of legal and logistical issues to work out. They alone can't keep up with the current level of mismanagement, so it still remains for the extant clans to manage the rest extralegally. It happens that some of them are a bit too heavy-handed in it."

"Like the Malthusius trying to bully the school out from under you," Adiel said.

"Like so. The magic residing on the Halcyon property would no doubt be a boon to their attempts to straighten out the mess in which the current unrest has left us. When you consider how many people were displaced from jobs and homes when their clans were sundered, it's not hard to see why the ones that remain fight so hard to keep themselves in some sort of power."

"Are you seriously defending Malthusius' attempts to take the school away from you? Do you even know what they say about you behind your back?"

"I do, and I am not defending them, neither their methods or the reasoning behind them. But in order to come to a compromise that benefits all parties, it is necessary to understand their motivations, and I do understand. The Montreides have always been a strongly political clan with a seat on the council and an entire province to their name. I am intimately familiar with how the leaders of the clans operate, the virtues as well as the flaws. I will say that the excesses of many of the clan leaders, and the disregard with which the king afforded them, were bound to lead to the March. They neglected the original purpose of our clan bonds, and the country as whole paid for it. But however unfair, it falls to those of us who wish to repair the problems of our country to find a way to fix them. The general has implemented many such changes since assuming control; only time will tell if they will work to the desired effect. I myself cannot condone inciting violence that would further damage Caldona's already stressed resonances."

"Sometimes you have to fight though," Adiel said. "What about the Uprisers who are causing trouble in Chelsa right now? Diplomacy isn't working on them."

"That is true. They are being led by a notorious traitor and terrorist, and are not interested in preserving peace and balance, so the General has no other choice but to fight them. In the greater magical context, it is a terrible setback. However, the issue here is more complex, and I will not resort to fighting when there is an opportunity for negotiation in good faith."

Adiel eyed him dubiously. "You really think you can negotiate with the Malthusius after the way they've been treating you these last couple of years?"

"I will continue to try. I believe that an alliance would be preferable to the current state of affairs. It might not be comfortable, considering the history between their clan and the Halcyon school, but certainly more so than a continued rivalry."

Adiel shook his head. "You realize that sounds completely insane."

Zan gave a wry smile. "So my family is fond of telling me."

By then they had reached the market, a collection of stalls lining a narrow section of street and a couple of empty lots set aside for the purpose, just off the square. The rising heat of the late morning had driven off much of the business. Zan turned their discussion to what they should make for lunch—a much less fraught subject—as they browsed.

❀

Seya prowled around the city most of the morning, avoiding groups of people and the green-uniformed guard officers out on patrol—there were a lot of them, she noted, and wondered if there was something going on that she'd be better off knowing about, and whether it had something to do with the dissonance she had sensed.

Of that, she felt she had learned all she could without doing something that might get her noticed. She refused to reduce her interior shields without a damn good reason. Even if she hadn't been running from both sides of a war that was supposed to have ended seven years ago, there were still the Malthusius to deal with. And any other clan that might take an interest in her magic.

What she needed was to talk with someone who might know what was going on. If it had been anywhere else, she might have lowered her defenses a bit and went looking for a likely soul to charm it out of, but she didn't need to do that here. If one of Aren's relatives was bondmaster at Halcyon, he might have inside information on the situation. And she could ask Vico, too. Surely the Malthusius were keeping a close eye on things. She had noticed the dissonant undercurrent was less pronounced in their territory. Hemsley's too, though Seya was amazed to find that particular clan had survived the restructuring. They had always been dirty as hell.

She did not recognize any of the other sigils she had noticed around town, but none of them had strong enough bond magic to combat the dissonance. Or maybe they did, and weren't trying very hard for some reason. She thought about looking deeper, but mucking about in someone else's bond magic was just asking for trouble.

By then it was closing on eleven, and she was starting to get hungry again, so she backtracked to a small open air market she'd passed up earlier. It had been busy then, the shoppers taking advantage of the cooler morning hours, but thankfully when she went back, it was quieter. She was less pleased to discover there was a guard officer hovering in the vicinity. She might be a little less scruffy and dusty than she had been the night before, but she knew how she looked. A stranger in travel-worn clothes and too heavy shields on one hand, or a notorious former delinquent on the other. She wasn't sure which was worse. Hopefully ten years, a war, and a complete restructuring of the government's peacekeeping system had reduced her to a distant memory, though she still kept an eye out for familiar faces.

She tried to project a casual, unassuming aura, but there were still too many people milling about for her to lower her defenses too much. Keeping careful attention on the guard officer, she ambled through the stalls, avoiding the casual jostling of her fellow browsers with the ease of long practice, thinking vaguely of finding something to take back to Vico's place in case he returned on his lunch break like he'd said.

The aroma of smoked pork and spices made her mouth water and she followed it to a stall selling steamed buns. The line was a bit long, so she was standing nearby, waiting for it to thin out, and pretending to contemplate a display of fruit while she kept an eye on the officer. He had not noticed her yet, too preoccupied with another suspicious person, a little Caldi girl with the deep ochre skin tone and riotously curly hair of a northerner, whom Seya had seen loitering at the corner of the tea seller's stall earlier. There was something about the child that bothered Seya, but she wasn't close enough to tell what without dropping her defenses. She abandoned the idea of food and started working her way closer to where the kid was, which was hard because she kept moving, acting like she was shopping—she even had a shopping bag over one arm—but she wasn't buying anything, and Seya doubted very much she had any intention of doing so.

If she was trying to be sneaky, she was failing. Seya had a feeling if the girl tried to steal anything, she was going to get caught immediately. She couldn't help feeling sorry for her—she had a pinched and miserable look that Seya recognized from harsh experience. If the officer hadn't been watching her so closely, Seya would have given her Vico's money and told her to go home before she got in trouble, but she was afraid that would get her logged as a person of interest herself. She leaned against the corner of an empty stall, contemplating this dilemma and feeling rather more of a coward than usual for dithering about it.

That was the trouble with being in a place where she was likely to be recognized. Any trouble she got into in her old hometown was exponentially more likely to bring up her disappearance and the inevitable investigation could only lead back to the army, and DeGraffenreid.

❀

Zan was perusing the used bookseller's stall while Adiel bargained over vegetables when he saw his mysterious stranger again. For a moment, curiosity got the better of his manners and he laid aside the volume he had been flipping through to study her. Worn and nondescript attire aside, in the light of day she made a striking figure, on the tall side of average, her slight frame exaggerated by a faded shirt several sizes too large. Her skin was the lighter golden hue common in western Caldona, which had seen the largest influx of immigrants from the Isles during the Waves.

There was something compelling about her presence, a sort of restless energy, but it was the alertness in her bearing that held his attention. He watched her glance back over her shoulder at the guard officer patrolling the edges of the market as if she expected trouble. The way her sun-streaked brown hair fell over her face seemed deliberate, though as he watched, she reached up to comb it back, her eyes fixed on the officer. She followed his circuit around the market's periphery until he disappeared behind a group of shoppers. Turning back in his direction, she gave a violent start as their gazes crossed. Her eyes were a lovely shade of gray, reminding Zan of distant storm clouds, but they were set in a face too thin and too tired. She gave him a curt nod of acknowledgement and with another wary sweep of the market grounds, she turned and moved away, shoulders hunched and hands stuffed into her pockets.

Zan watched her go. Was seeing her again just an odd coincidence, or was it deliberate? He wouldn't put it past Malthusius or Hemsley to send someone to try to ingratiate themselves to him in the guise of needing help. Zan had only beenHalcyon's bondmaster for two years, but he already had a reputation in Starling for that sort of intercession.

If she was acting, she was doing a damn good job, because he didn't think that was the case at all. He had found himself dwelling on that brief glimpse of her magic and the feeling it had left in Halcyon's resonances more than once over the course of the morning. He considered trying to strike up a conversation, but after her reaction upon catching him looking at her, he was afraid his attention would be unwelcome.

Adiel came to find him. "I got them to throw in the potatoes for free," he said, looking well pleased with himself. When Zan did not respond, Adiel followed his gaze across the market to where the strange girl had moved. "Who's that?"

"I don't know. She came to the school last night."

"She doesn't look half suspicious, does she?" said Adiel. "Who needs shields like that? What'd she want?"

"I'm not sure. She asked for Winter, and left after finding out she was gone. She claimed to have been a student."

"I really think you should talk to the guard," Adiel said. "Strangers wandering into the grounds at night and cars parked outside all hours of the day, that's definitely suspicious."

"It could be a coincidence," Zan said. "I do intend to keep an eye out. Now, what else did we need?"

"Just tea, I think," Adiel said. "I put the last of it in the pot this morning."

The tea seller greeted them warmly. "Your usual, sweetie?" she asked. "Or some of this lovely green tea from Cordana that just came in? Very rare."

"That sounds very nice, Mrs. Harlen," said Zan. "I'll take an ounce of that to try, and my usual as well, thank you." He paid for it and put his wallet back in his pocket as Mrs. Harlen measured out the leaves.

"I do think you'll like it," she said. "Cordani teas are a little finicky, but this one is so light—they grow it in shade, so the leaves turn such a nice green color. It smells divine." She held the bag out to him.

He took a deep breath of the sweet, green aroma. "That does smell amazing. How is your husband? I haven't seen him around the market lately."

"Oh, he's fine, dear, he just got back from the buying trip in Cordana last night, bit too tuckered out for the market today."

"Please give him my regards," Zan said. He was tucking the packets of tea into his shopping bag when someone slammed into him from behind, knocking it from his shoulder. He looked up to see a small, curly-headed girl hurtling away at top speed.

"She stole your wallet!" Adiel cried.

"Adiel, wait!" Zan said, but it was too late to stop him. He was already chasing after her.


	6. Intercessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh...there’s some mild angst and bloodshed in this chapter? My brain is fried from end-of-the-year crap so let me know if you need any other warnings. I’ll see you all in the new year! Yes, all three of you! *flings self into the void*

Seya saw the girl barrel into Montreides and gave a quiet groan, but she didn't have the stomach to watch as a kid that desperate got arrested in front of her. The guard was already moving to intercept, spinning up a binding spell. Seya timed it perfectly, bracing herself against the coming contact and stepping right into the girl's path, letting herself get barreled over and taking the girl with her as she fell. The girl gave an indignant squeak as they crashed to the pavement. Seya used the distraction to relieve her of the stolen wallet and port it back across the market next to the half-spilled bag of groceries with a hasty but subtle bit of spellwork. "You want to watch it there, kiddo?" she said, as the girl staggered up and darted away. She was too quick—Seya had not gotten a good enough feel through the girl's tangled mix of fear and panic for whatever felt so off about her. She would have gone after her, but the guard was already making his way across to them. The girl, seeing him, changed course, darting back around toward a break in the stalls.

She did not get far. The Caldi boy who'd been talking to Montreides came flying across the aisle and threw the silvery spellwork of a binding over her. "You're not going anywhere! Give Master Zan his wallet back!"

"I don't have any damn wallet!" she cried, shrinking back as Montreides strode over, dismay clear in his face. 

Seya picked herself up off the ground. "Montreides, wasn't it?" she said as she dusted herself off.

"Ah—yes," he said. He glanced at Seya, his eyebrows drawn together in a slight frown. Suspicion? 

The guard officer came up beside him. His badge read Destino and he had a stiff and officious aura that immediately set Seya's teeth on edge. "What seems to be the problem here?" he asked, his eyes moving between Seya and the trapped girl with much more naked suspicion.

"I'm sure it's nothing," said Montreides. 

The boy gaped at him. "She stole your wallet, I saw her!"

"Actually, I think you dropped your wallet back there, Mr. Montreides," Seya said, pointing across the market to the tea seller's stall, where the tea seller was very kindly picking up his groceries. She held the wallet up and waved it at him when she saw him looking. 

"I see," Montreides said slowly. He had to know it was a lie. Seya met his gaze evenly, daring him to object. "How careless of me." He didn't seem angry, but Seya was finding him curiously difficult to read.

"It could happen to anyone, I'm sure," she said. The little would-be thief glared daggers at her and thrashed fruitlessly against the binding.

"That's not what—" the boy began. 

"Adiel, I will handle this. Why don't you go help Mrs. Harlen," Montriedes said, steering him in that direction, ignoring the boy's objections. "Thank you, miss…?"

"It's Seya," she said, after a moment’s hesitation;

"Thank you, Seya, you may have saved us all from an unfortunate mistake." 

She returned his smile with a mocking quirk to her lips. 

Zan knelt down to dissolve the spellwork of Adiel's binding. "I apologize for my student's hasty actions, young lady," he said, and extended a hand to help her up. She batted it away and jumped to her feet, darting away through the onlookers without a word. For a moment, Seya thought he'd go after her, but then he glanced over at Adiel and then at his watch and sighed, looking troubled.

Destino was unconvinced. He scowled after the girl a moment, then turned back to Zan, tapping the sigil on his collar as he tuned into the guard bond to report the incident. "Would you like to make a report, Mr. Montreides?"

"Thank you for your concern, officer, but I don't see that there's a need. My wallet is fine, and I daresay my groceries are none the worse for having been knocked about a bit." He took out his card and handed it to Destino. "I do hope that if the young lady in question should happen to turn up in trouble at some time in the future, you will consider Halcyon as an alternative to some harsher punishment."

Destino studied the card. "I see, Master Montreides," he said, in a more respectful tone. He glanced at Seya again and his eyes narrowed. "Got my eye on you," he muttered as he moved past her. 

"You have fun with that," she said, earning another scowl. He was reporting a description of the would-be thief through the guard bond as he resumed his place at the edge of the market, but his attention remained directed on her. "No good deed," she said with a blithe shrug—as if her heart wasn't pounding in her chest and her hands weren’t shoved deep into her pockets to hide the shaking. 

"That was very kind of you," said Montreides. "Thank you."

"Why are you thanking her?" Adiel said, outraged, as he gave Zan back his wallet. "She let that girl get away! If that officer hadn't been here, they'd probably be carrying off your money right now!"

"Adiel, please don't be rude. She was kind enough to rescue my wallet, after all."

“I wondered if you had noticed," she said, wrapping the words in a dampening spell, since Destino wasn't troubling to hide the fact that he was using his guard bond magic to listen to their conversation. Destino frowned—as did Montreides, though he didn't say anything. "Most people would be angry." Or suspicious. Again, she couldn’t tell if he was, despite how mild his personal shields were set.

"Yeah, we all agree, he's too nice," Adiel said sarcastically. "Master Zan, we need to get back if we're going to start lunch in time."

"By all means," Montreides said with a glance at his watch. "Pleasure to meet you, Seya." He dipped his head to her in a slight, formal bow instead of offering her a handshake—a high clan gesture that went rather at odds with his personality. 

"Likewise," she said, and watched, bemused, as he paused to thank the tea seller before leaving. What she wanted was to go try to find that girl, but Destino was still watching her like a hawk, and clearly she’d already blown her chance to avoid the guard’s notice. Getting tangled up with a delinquent for whom the guard was already on alert was something she couldn't afford at any price, so with a last, regretful glance in the direction the poor girl had run away, she sighed and followed after Montreides instead. At least until I‘m out of Destino's range, she told herself.

His warm, dark eyes fell on her with curiosity and a little puzzlement as she fell into step beside him. Seya gave him a challenging look, chin up, but he only nodded to her again, much less formally this time. He was a very attractive man in the daylight, tall and lean built, skin the darker southeastern Caldi coloring, warm umber with notes of sienna where the sun touched it, and a narrow face with patrician features and a straight nose that resembled Winter enough that they had to be fairly closely related. His wavy black hair was cut to shoulder-length and pulled back into a short tail instead cascading down to his waist after the traditional high clan style, and he was clad simply, in jeans that were starting to show a bit of wear and a button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. On Winter that look had been utilitarian, but Montreides managed to look charmingly uncomplicated. He had to be in his early thirties at least, judging from the beginnings of lines at the corners of his eyes and the odd stray strand of silver in his hair that caught the sunlight. Usually Seya was too distracted by people's magic to notice their faces, but there was something so…understated about him. She looked away, suddenly awkward and with the beginnings of unwelcome heat creeping up her face; anxious habit had her checking her shields to make sure she wasn't broadcasting the feeling to all and sundry.

"Is she going to follow us all the way to the school? That's not suspicious at all," said Adiel.

"That's a nice idea, actually," Montreides said. "Won't you let us treat you to lunch as thanks?"

She blinked at him, incredulous, but it seemed like a genuine offer. And a terrible idea. "I couldn't impose. I didn't do it for you, anyway, I just couldn't watch while that poor kid got in trouble. That officer had his eye on her already."

"Even so, I am grateful."

Adiel gave a groan and stomped ahead. 

"Please forgive my young student," Montreides said, raising his voice pointedly. "He's a bit overprotective."

"I shouldn't wonder," she said. "Allowing pickpockets to go free and trying to bring home obviously suspicious girls. Not exactly proper behavior for a schoolmaster. Are you sure you're related to Winter?"

Montreides laughed, though it was a bit rueful. "I'm sure she would have had a few words for that young lady. I don't believe she would have let her be arrested though."

"No, she'd have dragged her back to the school, fed her, and lectured her for hours while forcing her to practice centering and warding spells backwards and forwards."

"That does sound like my aunt," Montreides said.

"I…may be speaking from experience. She'd be giving me hell right now for lying about it, even if my reasons were more or less charitable."

"So you're admitting to being a thief!" said Adiel.

"No, my mother would have straight up murdered me if I ever stole anything. When Winter shouted at me, it was usually for fighting," Seya said. "And occasionally rebounding things, though that generally wasn't deliberate."

Comprehension lit in Montreides' face. "Oh! I thought your name sounded familiar. Aren told me about you."

"Not too much I hope," she said, trying to keep her tone unconcerned, but her shoulders suddenly felt tight.

"So you were a student?" Adiel said, still skeptical.

"For about fourteen years, in fact."

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Seya," Montreides said. "Ah—I don't believe I ever heard your last name."

"That's because there isn't one to hear," she said, and smirked at his consternation. "Aren couldn't have told you too much, then. My mother never put one on my birth certificate. There were some…family issues. I suppose it's nice to meet you too, Mr. Montreides."

"Please call me Zan," he said. He held out his hand. She took it somewhat reluctantly, and only because she couldn't be rude to someone who was so damn nice. She made damn sure both her internal and external shields were implacable first.

He clearly felt no such need despite being a rare high spiritualist himself, and high equivalent elementalist through his bonds. He wore his magic with the flawless grace of someone born to high levels, but though his clan bond glowed steadily in the shades of his aura, his energy was more tuned to the still, cool depths of Halcyon's magic, an attractive layering of well-nurtured spiritual bonds and seemingly effortless discipline. That it was all bound up in such an open, generous personality was too much. She was being unutterably stupid to follow him; he was exactly the sort of person she tried to stay away from.

"Mr. Montreides," she repeated, mostly to remind herself not to do anythings stupid, but she felt the faint twinge of his disappointment before she let go of his hand. She glanced back over her shoulder. At least Destino had not followed them. She decided to walk along with them for a little longer, just in case. 

That's what she told herself anyway, very firmly. "I'm almost afraid to ask what Aren did say about me," she said, affecting a lack of concern.

"Ah—I believe 'incurable delinquent' was his turn of phrase," Zan admitted. "But if I recall correctly, your grades were very good."

"Yes, well, magic is pretty much the only thing I'm good for," she said. "And getting into fights, I guess. How is Aren?"

"He's doing very well. He finished his healer's training and reopened Dalen's clinic about the same time I took over the school."

"I'm surprised he didn't move away with Winter."

"He saw her to Thelassa and stayed a few months to get to know his father's tir better, but then he came back. He still lives at home; he and his partner built a house on a corner of Halcyon's grounds, so it's possible you may see him if you decide to drop by."

Seya gave a sharp bark of a laugh. "You don't want me around the school, I'm a bad influence. I'm sure he also told you I dropped out and ran away."

"He said disappeared, actually. I inferred there was some trouble with your family that contributed to that?" Zan said. "That is something I can understand, myself." 

"Is that why Winter gave the school to you? Because you were also a problem child for the Montreides?" She cast him a sidelong glance. "I can't really picture that." She didn't think she'd met anyone whose aura screamed 'straight as an arrow' more loudly in her life. It wasn't that he projected, as some people did—his discipline was too good for that, but he was just…open. How could he even stand it, all that high spiritualist magic and so few barriers between him and the rest of the world? Not everyone is as defective as you are, she reminded herself. 

"Let's just say I do not see eye to eye with my clan's ideals. I was…very happy when Winter offered me this opportunity to get away from that environment." 

There was a whisper of old grief in his aura at that, but if she hadn't been looking she would never have noticed. "But not sure enough to sever your bond?" she said, looking away deliberately.

They walked in silence for a while as Zan considered his answer. Finally he said, "I still have hope for them despite everything that has happened. It may be a foolish hope. Winter herself told me it was before she left. But I cannot give it up yet."

"Ah, yes, hope," she said, with a faint, ironic twist to her smile. "The flower with thorns. I am familiar with it."

It took him a moment to get the reference, but instead of laughing he caught his breath as if she'd struck him. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

"It's a joke, Montreides. You're meant to laugh."

"What's so funny about that?" Adiel demanded. 

"It's a line from a poem," Zan said, finding his voice. "In the Caldi spell language, hope is pronounced seya. The written version is used as mnemonic device to teach the difference between the sigils and charms for the word."

"Oh," Adiel said. "Hope is the sigil and…flower, that's the elemental, right?"

Seya was surprised he knew it. It was a rare usage, not often used outside temples or complex varieties of farming and gardening spellwork. Zan regarded him with an almost paternal pride. "Yes. It's the version of flower with the connotations for new and spring."

"I should have known better than to use that line on a teacher," she said. "Most people don't get it." Certainly not well enough to be upset by the comparison. She hadn't meant to upset him. All those months of running and avoiding people as much as possible had obviously dulled her ability to deal with them. Not that she had been planning to take advantage of his invitation, even though it was just a tiny bit tempting. Or extremely tempting, if she was being honest with herself. After spending all day hunting down dissonant traces, Halcyon's clean, clear resonance would have been wonderful.

She could already tell that following him was going to be a mistake.

❀

They walked a long moment in silence. Seya's face had gone curiously remote. "If I recall correctly, your mother was a priestess?" Zan asked, to dispel the encroaching discomfort.

"She was. A caldi," she said, rather flatly.

"I still don't know why that's supposed to be funny," Adiel said.

Seya's lips shaped into that careless smile again, but it didn't ring any truer now than it had back in the marketplace. "I assure you, if your taste in humor runs to irony, it is, in fact, hilarious."

She said it like it was a joke, but Zan didn't believe it was. It might not have bothered him so much if he hadn't remembered the sense of hopelessness that had lingered in Halcyon's resonances after she left the night before. Even wrapped in self-deprecating humor, it felt like such a stark admission Zan was beset by memories: how keenly it had felt like he was locked away in the Montreides estate, his whole future mapped out, no hope of escape. Winter's offer had been a breath of freedom he'd never even dreamed. He wanted to say something to that effect, and it startled him, because that was not something he spoke of often even to his friends, much less complete strangers. It made him wish he had gotten a better sense of her when they'd shaken hands. He'd hoped to catch another glimpse of the magic that had left such an impression in his sense, but her internal shields were too strong. And of course it was none of his business, and horribly impolite to pry into someone else's magic besides.

He cast his mind about for a change of subject. By then they they were walking along the school's wall, only a corner's turn to Old Main Street and a couple minutes' walk from the gate. He paused when they reached the corner, checking for the car that had so bothered Adiel earlier. It was parked in front of the gate now. He heard Seya suck in a sharp breath just as he recognized the familiar figure lounging against it with mock indolence: Torrance McKellen, a Malthusius bonded, and the one who was currently giving him the most trouble. 

Tor straightened and gave a sarcastic little wave as they neared. "Afternoon, Montreides," he called. "Lovely weather, isn't it?"

"A trifle warm, perhaps," Zan said, his tone carefully neutral. Adiel looked up at him with alarm in his dark eyes. Zan moved between him and McKellen. Seya paced along behind them, her attention fixed on McKellen with a worrying intensity.

McKellen took off his sunglasses and leaned forward, staring at her in surprise and sudden, malicious glee. "Well, if it isn't the prodigal child. I thought Marc was full of shit, but here you are. Looking rather worse for wear." He cast a scornful eye over her travel worn clothes.

Her lip curled in contempt. "Tor. I'm surprised you haven't gotten your neck wrung by now. Still hiding behind mommy's influence?"

Anger flashed in McKellen's aura. "I guess I ought to give you a little credit, Seya. I was sure you'd come running back to this sorry excuse of a school outside a week at best, but here it is, nearly ten years."

"I think I gave you too much credit," she said. "Weren't you going to start your own clan? I seem to remember you said something along those lines after Jayen threw you out of his little clique, but here you are, being led around the nose by Malthusius, same as always."

"And it's nice to see this school is still a haven for useless bastard children. Ain't that right, Montreides?" 

Zan felt a flicker of alarm. Ignoring verbal harassment was one thing, but there was more than simple malice burning in Tor's aura. He put his hand on Adiel's shoulder. The boy was shaking with anger and fear, his knuckles white around the straps of the shopping bag. "Why don't your take the groceries in," said Zan, directing him through the gate and closing the wards behind him so he wouldn't try to interfere this time. 

"You sure do a real good job teaching your students to run away," McKellen said, leaning on the car and brushing his fingertips over the surface of the hot metal in a dangerous gesture. Zan felt the prickle of energy being drawn, and reached for his shields as McKellen swung a searing wave of hot, metallic energy toward him. Before it could make an impact, Seya shoved past him and swept up a hard swath of energy from the concrete of the sidewalk, slamming it into McKellen's unfocused burst. 

McKellen was well-shielded enough to avoid taking any personal damage, but his car lurched, the metal on the side crunching inward under the impact of her counterattack. He swore violently and lunged toward her.

She was all ready with another attack, but Zan caught her wrist, staying her casting and deflecting McKellen's attempt to get to her with his own shields. McKellen bounced off the defense with an yelp of surprise and stumbled to one knee on the sidewalk. Seya jerked her arm back in shock, glaring at him. "What the hell, Montreides!"

"I'm sorry, but I would prefer there be no fighting in front of my school," he said. 

Flushing with anger and embarrassment, she let her arm fall, dissolving the energy harmlessly back into the concrete where it belonged.

"Coward," McKellen spat as he got to his feet. He wrenched the dents out of his car door with a furious gesture and jerked it open, blazing with fury that he did not bother to keep from projecting.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Mr. McKellen," Zan said. "Please leave before I summon the guard."

McKellen made a vulgar gesture in response, which Zan ignored. He waited for McKellen to get in the car and drive away before turning to Seya with a frown. "Do you always jump straight to fighting with everyone who antagonizes you?" he asked, frowning down at the sidewalk to check the energy signature. It was illegal to draw energy from an undesignated municipal property—drawing from things that weren't reinforced for that purpose tended to destabilize them.

"Not everyone," she said, bristling at the rebuke. "Just people who've tried to kill me." 

That was a bit dramatic. It might have been a painful strike had it hit, but hardly lethal. He opened the school's wards. "My invitation still stands," he said, but she just waved him off in disgust. He wasn't sure if it was for McKellen, or himself. He tried not to let the idea of the latter bother him. He should be used to people thinking him a coward for refusing to be drawn into pointless fights by now. 

Seya had gotten only a half dozen steps away when McKellen's car screeched to a halt at the corner. Zan paused halfway through the gate as a rumble of stone-based energy signaled that the encounter was not yet over. He reached for his shields again, but the attack was not aimed at him this time. It ricocheted off Halcyon's wards and slammed into the sidewalk, sending up a wave of concrete shards like jagged bullets. 

Zan was protected by his proximity to the wards, but Seya was not so lucky. Her external shields were formulated for an energy-based distance attack, and she did not have time to adjust them fully. "Son of a bitch," she hissed as McKellen roared out of sight. She raised a hand to her neck, her fingers coming way bloody—one of the shards had gotten her. "Gods and—I can't believe that bastard got the drop on me. Oh, that's just perfect, isn't it, a gods damned curse, too. Fucker."

"Are you all right?" Zan asked, summoning a towel from the kitchen and hurrying over to her. "I'm so sorry, I wasn't expecting that to turn into a physical attack—I should have done something." He pressed the cloth to her neck and held it firmly. 

Seya stiffened, and Zan jerked his hand back in surprise as she projected a violent rejection of the contact. "I beg your pardon," he said, blinking at the force behind it. 

"Sorry," she muttered as he stepped back to give her some space. "Habit. Girl traveling alone and all."

"No, I apologize, I didn't mean to be forward. I forgot Aren had said you were a high spiritualist, or I would have asked first." He glanced quickly at her hands, but her right was unmarked, and the left covered by a grubby dueling glove, its laces loose and broken off too short to tie on any charms. Her shirt sleeves were long, so he couldn't see if it was higher on her arm. It seemed a strange choice, considering the weather. He held the towel out to her.

"It's fine, I think I can forgive you getting handsy this one time," she said dryly as she accepted it.

Zan flushed a little at her phrasing. "Won't you please let me see to that? I have some basic healer training."

"Not necessary," she said. "It's just a little cut. I'll be fine." By the time the words were out of her mouth she was wincing visibly from the pain. 

"No, please let me examine it properly," he said. "You can't walk around with a curse, and as it was my property that injured you, I bear some of the responsibility."

"Technically this sidewalk is municipal property," she said, casting a glance down at the rubble scattered over the street.

"I do pay taxes, so they are technically my sidewalks, at least in part," Zan said. "However, the wards are definitely mine."

She sighed and pressed the towel to the cut on her neck. "I guess it would be rude of me to deny you your civil obligations," she said, and followed him up to the school.


	7. Chapter 7

The inside of Halcyon had not changed much more than the outside. Probably there were some minor differences that she was overlooking after being gone for so long, but it was the feel of the place that mattered most, and it was still bathed in the same warm, welcoming aura she remembered.

Zan directed her into the kitchen, where Adiel was hastily unpacking the groceries he'd been neglecting while peering out the window to keep an eye on what was happening. He shot Seya a scowl, but seeing the blood seeping through the towel she held to her neck, he kept his thoughts to himself.

Seya ran her free hand—the right one—over the scarred top of the kitchen table in the center of the room. It was a huge kitchen, bright thanks to the big windows along the outer wall. Seya felt a sharp pang of grief for Dalen. When he wasn't working or tending his gardens, he could always be found in the kitchen, and she had spent a significant portion of her childhood sitting with him at this table while he explained the finer points of spiritualism in an effort to help her focus her own erratic magic with unfailing patience. The room had soaked up enough of Dalen's aura over the years that it felt like he might come bustling in from the garden with fresh cut flowers for the table at any moment. The emotions that had been threatening to overwhelm her since she had stepped back into town were hovering at the brink. She blinked hard and added another layer to her interior shields.

Zan pulled out a chair for her to sit, tipping his head at her in concern. "Is it hurting more?" he asked. "If it's very bad I can call Aren or Kaya. One or the other of them usually come home for lunch anyway."

"No, I was just—remembering," she said. "Place hasn't changed much since I left."

He glanced around the kitchen as he went to fetch his first aid kit. "I suppose not. I like it. It's got a nice, lived in feel, I think. Homey. It reminds me of the place where lived with my mother when I was a child."

She looked over the whitewashed walls, yellowed with age, and the tiles, chipped and scratched from years of use. It was spotlessly clean, but there was no disguising the patina of stains and wear from nearly thirty years of feeding and wrangling students. "I thought the Montreides were a big deal in Castiverre," she said.

Zan had his back to her, digging in a cabinet. His posture stiffened, and she winced at her thoughtlessness when she remembered that Vico had told her he was illegitimate. He made no comment, merely set the first aid kit on the table and combed through it for a bottle of antiseptic.

Adiel was not too busy putting away the groceries to be offended on his behalf. "Master Zan prefers to use the budget for the good of the students," he said, banging around in the pantry. He came out with a cutting board and a large pot, which he smacked onto the counter in a huff. "There's no point wasting money on redecorating when everything is perfectly serviceable."

She raised her eyebrows at him. "I was a student here from ages two to sixteen, and I actually lived here those last two years," she said. "I wasn't complaining. It beats the hell out of pretty much every place I've lived since."

"Two year olds can't do magic," Adiel said.

She didn't bother to correct him on that point. "My mother helped Winter and Dalen maintain the magic here when she was around. They looked after me in lieu of payment. Halcyon was practically my second home. Until it actually became my home."

"Then why would you even make stupid cracks like that!"

"Adiel," Zan said mildly, and the boy finished assembling his cooking utensils more quietly. "I was raised by my mother's family until I was seven," he said to Seya. "I can assure you neither the place where I lived with her, nor this one, is anything like the Montreides estate." The way he said it made it clear he preferred it that way. "If I may?" He held out his hand. He had nice hands, brown and warm and a little rough, marked here and there with small scars and callouses from working around the school.

She tilted her head to the side, trying not to be so terribly aware of his hand cradling her neck as he wiped the remaining blood away with a damp cloth. She couldn't help wincing as the strong, herbal-scented antiseptic stung at the scratches. It was a good distraction from that open presence of his, at least.

"I'm sorry, I know it stings," he said. "Aren made it. It's very good for these milder varieties of curses."

"I know. Dalen used to make it too." The memories of the countless times Dalen had patched her just like this hurt far worse.

He finished cleaning the cuts and studied them. "I do believe you will live."

"It was just a scratch," she said.

He had yet to remove his hand from its supporting position on the other side of her neck. "If you will permit me, I can heal up it for you."

"I don't think that's necessary for something so minor. That antiseptic has pretty much stopped the curse already. I can barely feel it now."

"Please, it was partially my fault—"

"Are you always this pushy?" she interrupted.

That startled him. "Am I being pushy?"

"Yeah, you kind of are," said Adiel.

Zan looked away, flustered. "I apologize, it's just that I'd hate to see you off while you're still hurt."

He started to take his hands away, but she stopped him. "No, just go ahead and do it, then. Saying things like that, you're actually making me feel bad for objecting."

"If you're sure," he said.

"It's fine," she said. "If I felt uncomfortable I would just leave. I doubt you could stop me. That might be fun, though," she added, tipping her head back into his hand and giving him that slightly mocking smile. "Except you seem like the type to duel strictly by the rules."

"I'm afraid I do not duel recreationally," he said, almost apologetically. "I do have classes for the older students on rules and techniques, but there is very little call for it these days, with the clans no longer in charge of everything." He brushed his thumb experimentally over the smallest of the cuts and his eyebrows drew together. "Your defenses are up a little high for me to get a proper read on this."

"Sorry," she said, and drew back the outermost layers of her exterior shields. The furrow between his eyebrows deepened as he studied the dense network of defenses she was maintaining.

"It's an acid-based curse, I think," he said. "This might sting a little."

Seya grimaced as he drew out the remains of the curse. It did sting, and clung stubbornly to her skin, but he got it all out without much of a problem. It fogged around his fingertips within the barrier he created to contain it, a bright, sickly green. He deconstructed to its most basic, harmless components and dissipated them with a flick of his fingers. He bent over her to examine the physical damage.

"It won't take a moment," he said, covering the whole area with his palm and began framing the spellwork for physical healing over the cuts. Seya averted her eyes and exhaled sharply.

"Is that too fast?" he asked, though he had barely begun the casting.

"I'm not that fragile." It wasn't the mild discomfort of feeling her skin forcibly knit back together that bothered her. Healing magic required an extraordinary level of openness, and she was kind of regretting not finding out exactly what Aren had told him about her, because she couldn't tell if he just didn't know how her magic was or if he truly wasn't concerned about it. She tried to tell herself it wasn't taking advantage since he had offered to do it without any prompting from her, but she still felt guilty for accepting the help without disclosing the extent to which he was opening himself to her. Because he was like an open door, all his concern and curiosity, his friendly interest, and the most truly beautiful magic she'd ever seen in a person, so calm and steady and kind, she could have fallen right into it. She held back as much as possible, but there was a definite sense of other, darker things lurking behind his interior defenses—apparently he wasn't entirely open—but nothing to set off her usual wariness of getting too close to anyone. Except, of course, the knowledge that she was intruding on parts of someone's aura she shouldn't be able to access to in the first place.

It was the kindness that stuck out at her. Living the way she had for so long, Seya had learned the value of kindness, and the danger of it, too. She couldn't let herself get used to it. Not again. She didn't want what had happened in Keraday to happen here.

The memory of Keraday was like a blow to the gut. The reaction was the same as always: full body flinch, heart rate spike, hands shaking from the sudden rush of adrenaline. "Are you all right?" Zan asked, pulling both hands back in alarm.

"I'm fine," she said, her voice faint and wobbly. "Are you done?"

"Ah, yes, I think so." He was kneeling by her chair, looking up at her face with concern, his hand hovering over her neck, not quite touching. Adiel was eyeing them both with alarm. "If I did something to hurt you, please tell me."

"It wasn't you," she said. "You're good. Thank you."

"Are you sure? You look a little pale."

She brushed it off. "Yeah. I just…need a minute."

He hesitated, but just then the tea kettle started whistling. He went to dispose of the bloodstained towels and wash his hands.

Seya took a deep, shaky breath and raised her hand to her neck. There wasn't even the slightest trace of the injury, but the warmth of his fingers and his magic lingered. It made her even more restless. Get up, do something, move around. You can't have a meltdown in a stranger's home, even if it did use to be yours. She stood, refusing to allow her legs to shake under her weight. "Where are the tea things?" she asked.

Zan pointed to a cabinet. "We'll need five cups," he said, looking out the window. “The Lacelles are here."

Adiel gave a sigh. "I still think you need to tell their parents we're not a daycare," he grumbled, tossing a great heap of chopped onion into the pan to sizzle furiously.

"Now, Adiel, it does no harm to let them stay an extra hour or two before their lessons," Zan said. He handed Seya a packet of tea leaves and went to bring the children in.

Once his teacher was out of hearing, Adiel rounded on her fiercely. "I won't let you be another one of these people who takes advantage of Master Zan's kindness," he said.

"Your soup is boiling over," she said.

Adiel went back to the stove as the broth started hissing and spitting against the fire charm etched into the stovetop. He waved a hand over the pot, drawing some of the heat out to settled the soup back to a simmer before adjusting the power level. "I heard about you from Aren too. You were a terrible delinquent."

"Absolutely good for nothing," she agreed, scooping spoonfuls of tea leaves into the pot and filling it with water.

"He said you got into fights all the time, even after Master Winter took you in."

"I still do that, alas."

Her facetious tone earned her a withering glare, but the rest of his tirade was curtailed as Zan brought a pair of children into the kitchen and introduced them: a light-skinned boy of about ten with wheat-blond hair, who eyed her with lively curiosity; and a younger girl with the lighter northern Caldi coloring, though her dark hair fell more in waves than curls. She tried to hide behind Zan's leg upon encountering a stranger in the kitchen.

"Who's that?" the boy asked. He had a pronounced Talese accent.

Zan tousled his hair affectionately. "Lee, why don't you ask her yourself? I don't think she bites."

"Not children, anyway," Seya said, and the little girl shied even further away.

"She's just joking, pipsqueak," Adiel said, giving Seya another scowl as he ushered her into a chair. "Are you guys hungry? It's gonna be a little while before the soup is done. How about some cheese and crackers?" Keira perked up at that.

Lee sat down next to Seya. "Are you a new teacher?" he asked.

"Do I look like a teacher?" He reminded her of Vico when he had been that age, big-eyed and serious and too smart for his own good. His magic was just starting to wake, too.

He studied her carefully. "No, not really. I just wondered because you have a lot of elemental magic. People like that are usually pretty powerful."

"That's true, I guess. You can call me Seya. I was actually a student here, but I don't have a pinnacle, so I'm not qualified to teach," Seya said. She was annoyed with herself for getting upset enough to forget to put her external shields back up. She drew them back into place.

Lee was staring at her in shock. "You don't have a pinnacle? Even though you're so old?"

"Lee, that's a little rude," Zan said, tossing Adiel a reproving look as the older student snickered over the cutting board.

"Yeah, and I'm only twenty-six. That's hardly old," she said, smiling in spite of herself.

"Sorry," Lee said. "Do you use clan magic?"

"I don't have an affiliation."

"What do you do with all that magic then?"

"Not much."

"Did you come back to get your pinnacle?"

"Nope." It wasn't a lie. She had no intention of asking Zan to help her with her problems.

"Then why are you here?"

"Because apparently no one ever taught Master Montreides here not to pick up strangers off the street," she said dryly.

"But you aren't a stranger, really," Zan said as he poured the tea. "Your name is still in the student register, you know. Winter never took it out."

That was a surprise.

Adiel brought a plate of cheese and crackers to the table, and the children snacked in silence for some minutes. Seya sipped her tea, trying to dispel the lump in her throat. It was a nice to think Winter would have had her back after all, but it was a little late to be touched by it now that she was half an ocean away.

"It's Master Zan," Lee said.

"Is it now."

"Yeah, he doesn't like to be called Montreides. Anyway, if you're still a student, why don't you get your pinnacle here?"

"That's not going to happen," she said, setting down her cup. The homey, familiarity suddenly felt stifling under the weight of all the old memories.

"Um…" said a small voice. Seya looked across the table at Keira, who was looking back shyly.

"What's wrong?" Adiel asked.

"I wanted to ask…" She looked down, blushing.

"Sure, love, anything," Seya said, moving her teacup aside and leaning forward with her elbows on the table, smiling at her. Her bashfulness was too cute for words. She also had awakened magic, unusually strong spiritual magic for a child her age. Seya felt a pang of sympathy for her. It was hard to have early onset spiritual magic, as she well knew.

"Why are you only wearing one glove?"

Seya raised her unshod hand. "Well look at that, I didn't even notice. Must have lost it somewhere."

Keia looked at her a little more bravely. "I lose mine too. I don't wear them in summer though."

"It is summer, isn't it," Seya said lightly, clenching her gloved fist in her lap. For a second the sweet little face wavered in Seya's vision, and she saw a different, but no less innocent one in its place. A chill curled up from the pit of her stomach. What right did she have, to linger in a place like this?

Zan was eyeing her with concern again. "Seya? Are you sure you're all right?"

She stood, forcing herself to smile. "I'm fine. Oh, look at the time, I really should be going. Thanks for everything."

He looked like he wanted to object, but he didn't. "You're very welcome. Please feel free to drop by again if you like. Halcyon is always open to its students. All of them."

She paused in the doorway for a second. "Sure," she said, the lie bitter in her throat. "Sometime."

❀

Vico's appointment with the permit offices went well—he had all his paperwork in order and the woman running the place was far more cooperative than the man he'd spoken to the day before. And the representative from the Bretinne Farming Co-op showed up on time for once. Vico hurried back to the compound to make sure everything was filed appropriately and that a crew from the Lines and Resonances department could be onsite. Lejan was working, which facilitated that step much more readily than he had hoped. Lejan might be a recent addition to the clan, but he was a gregarious soul, infinitely likable, and he had just the right combination of high elementalist and more than adequate spiritual levels to make him too valuable to offend. Malthusius needed more such magic added to the clan bond to maintain their ever-growing network of elemental lines and mage-tech operations.

"It's set for Saturday," Vico said. "They assigned us to Inspector Walsh, so we're going to need to dot every 'i' and cross every 't' and then some—she's a stickler. I'll need a complete written run down of the 'works and the line connections, then there'll be an inspection to make sure it's all in order before she'll sign off on everything. I don't mind telling you I need this to go off without a hitch. I've got Addison and Marten both barking at me over the delays."

"No problem," Lejan said, flipping through the specs. "What happened last week, anyway? It's just a preservatory and cannery, right? Seems pretty straightforward to me, even with all the new mage-tech"

Vico shook his head. "What didn't happen. Someone—it was that purist magic group, I'm sure—lodged an objection with the Elemental Commission about the Talese patents on the machinery and auto-magic conflicting with existing Caldi patents, which is bullshit, because I triple-checked everything with Legal to make sure there were no conflicts. Then someone misfiled the paperwork for the line resettlement permits I had turned in to Marten, and then I found out after I stayed late to fill them all out again that they had given me entirely the wrong specs for it." Not by accident, he was sure. "Then there was that thing with Miredes, and I spent the rest of last week trying to persuade that sorry bastard not to levy a challenge on the Co-op leader over a stupid cultural difference—they're from the Isles, they don't duel over their crap like we do—and between the concessions we had to make to him, and the extras we had to offer to Bretinne to keep them from being poached away by Hemsley or Albrecht while we were being delayed by all this nonsense, Addison and Marten were both pissed as hell." Vico rolled his eyes. "Like letting them go would be better. I swear, if I didn't know exactly how much money they've sunk into this deal I'd think they stuck me with it because they knew it was going fail spectacularly."

Ever the peacekeeper, Lejan said, "I'm sure it's probably because you speak the Talesanne dialect so well. I was at the factory site for the preliminary traces, and those Sanne folks' Caldi is hard to follow."

"I had a lot of practice growing up because of my father. He refused to learn the language proper."A frown creased Lejan's brow, as it usually did when the subject of Vico's family came up. Vico had come to terms with his mother's abandonment and his father's drunken violence long ago, but Lejan had treated the subject with kid gloves ever since Vico had confided how his father had been imprisoned for nearly killing him when he was fourteen years old. Probably with good reason, considering he'd seen Vico hit absolute bottom in truly explosive fashion last year. Vico appreciated his protective streak even if it wasn't strictly necessary anymore. He patted Lejan's arm to let him know he was okay, and went on. "Anyway, I'll need all this by tomorrow morning so we can confirm the appointment for the inspection."

"I'll make sure it happens. First thing after lunch," Lejan assured him.

"You're a god-given grace. This'll make my job so much easier."

"No problem. Listen, you want to grab lunch? I know you've been under a lot of stress over this mess. If you need a friendly ear, I've got a couple right here."

"That sounds nice, but I have something to take care of at home over my break."

"You need a ride? I can drop you. It's on the way to the cafe."

"That'd be great. I have to take these papers up to Mediations, but I'll meet you downstairs in about ten minutes."


	8. Confrontations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I accidentally copy-pasted the wrong chapters into the wrong documents. Please enjoy the actual chapter eight...
> 
> Content warnings: sibling rivalry, suggestions of domestic violence (there was not any)

**Connected**

Vico found Lejan already waiting for him in the common room when he came down from the Mediations office, but before they could head out, Jayen came storming in the doors in a fury. "Is it true?" he demanded, without a care for the interest sparking in the other bonded that were gathered throughout the room. Vico crossed his arms and gave a deep, resigned sigh. "Were you even going to say anything to me, you deceitful, manipulative little—"

"Hey there, boss," Lejan said, interposing himself between them as Jayen advanced. "Maybe take a deep breath there, calm down before you say something you regret."

"Back off, Jacinth, this is none of your damn business."

"I'm just saying." Lejan's smile was benign, but he didn't move.

Vico took him by the arm. "It's fine, Lejan. I appreciate the offer of a ride, but I think this is going to take a while, so just go on without me."

"If you're sure," Lejan said, glancing between them uncertainly. Jayen stared at him, affronted.

"Really, Lejan, it's fine, I can handle him. We were going to have to talk anyway, and I'd rather get it over with sooner rather than later." Vico directed gently him toward the door, and he left, though not without a worried glance back.

"What the hell is his problem?" Jayen growled.

Vico shot him an exasperated look. "You know he was a Watcher back in Malacha," he said. "They're trained to keep the peace."

"Well, he's not in Malacha now, so he has no damn reason to insert himself into our business!"

"You did come stomping in here looking like you wanted to strangle me," Vico pointed out.

Jayen stepped back, stung. "Maybe I did, but it's not like I actually would!"

"Maybe you should think about how it looks when you do things like that. You've always been a punch first, ask questions later sort of person. And we do have a history of blasting the crap out of each other as kids," Vico said, very much aware that they were the center of attention in the common room. He could see Tor smirking from where he was sitting across the room with his feet propped up on the table.

"Don't lecture me about my attitude when you straight up lied to me this morning! You don't think I have a right to know Seya's back?"

"Why don't you ask Micah why he didn't tell you last night," Vico said, raising his voice as Micah came into the common room. "Or your father."

Jayen turned to Micah, betrayed.

Micah shot Vico a dirty look and threw his hands in the air. "Your dad's orders, Jayen. I just do what I'm told."

"What, am I the last to know?"

"I think you might be, Young Master," Tor said, his voice carrying across the room as he ambled over. "She's at Halcyon, or was when I saw her. You know, if you want to go give her a nice brotherly welcome." He smirked, and flipped something glassy up in the air. He caught it, held it up between two fingers. The magic inside sparked brilliant, poisonous green—an acid charm.

Vico tensed.

"If she's still on her feet, that is," Tor went on, with a sly glance at Vico. "She was always kind of sensitive to curses and all."

"What did you do?" Vico snarled, stepping toward him with mounting fury.

Jayen grabbed him by the back of his shirt to stop him, alarm sparking in his aura. "Hey, you'll get revoked."

Vico ground his teeth in an effort to control himself. He'd signed an agreement before joining the clan that said he would stay away from Tor, and the penalties for breaking it had teeth. Getting revoked was the least of them. He wasn't in any hurry to get himself challenged by the McKellen matriarch, who was still holding a grudge from the last time he and Tor had fought. "If she's not okay when I get to Halcyon, don't think for one second I won't fuck you up, McKellen, revocation or no," he bit out, shoving past both him and Jayen to get outside.

He'd hoped to catch Lejan before he left, but the man was nowhere in sight. Jayen, however, had come after him. "Where are you going?" he demanded.

"To Halcyon, obviously."

"I'm not done with you yet! Why the hell didn't you tell me about this!"

"I don't know, maybe because I knew you'd react like this, and I didn't want you chasing her away when she's only just come back!" Avoiding Jayen's attempt to catch him, he set off toward the garage. Jayen followed him, fuming with silent frustration. Vico just ignored him.

Erik Camis was manning the garage, a Malthusius-born, and an old friend of Jayen's from the little clique he and Seya had spent half their childhood fighting and dueling. Vico had gotten along with him well enough after joining the clan, but like most of Jayen's friends, he'd been a hassle to deal with since last summer. "I need to requisition a car," Vico said, resigned to having to argue over it.

"No you don't, I'll drive you," Jayen said.

"Absolutely not," Vico said. "And don't you dare follow me! If I see you anywhere near Halcyon I'll strangle you myself. Erik. Car. Please and thanks."

Erik looked him over, glanced at Jayen. "Nope."

"Now," Vico said. "I do not have time for this bullshit today."

"Sorry, Rhaimes, all out."

There were nine of the fleet cars cars in the garage. Vico started past him, but Erik shut the door almost on his fingers. "Boss, there's a guy trying to steal a car, might want to do something about that."

"I'm on it," Jayen said, taking Vico's arm and steering him toward his own car, which was parked outside under the reserved carport not far away.

Vico threw him a sour look. "Who's the manipulative bastard now?"

"Learned from the best, didn't I."

"Fine," Vico said. " _Fine_. Out with it. Shout or whatever, I don't care, let's just go." He got in the car, irritation piling on top of his worry. Jayen had a cavalier attitude toward speed limits, so at least they would get there fast. Jayen climbed into the driver's side and threw something at him. "Would you please stop doing that!" Vico said, catching it reflexively. It was warm in his hand, and when he opened his fingers he saw it was his fire charm. He'd checked the waste basket first thing when he got in to the office, but finding it gone, he'd assumed one of his coworkers or someone from the maintenance staff had seen it in there and taken it. He put it in his pocket instead of back on his earring and stared out the window until he had composed his face. "Seat belt, Jayen," he muttered, when Jayen started the car and pulled out of the carport without fastening his. Jayen gave a huff and stopped to put it on.

"Shouldn't you be picking up one of your crew first?" Vico asked as they got to the gate.

"You worked security long enough to suffice. Or are you taking back what you said this morning?"

"I'm thinking very seriously about it right now."

Jayen drove in silence for several blocks, glaring venomously out the windshield.

"How's your mother?" Vico asked. "I haven't seen her around." It was a deliberate avoidance on his part. Lessandra Zendos was the least maternal mother he knew, but she was still angry enough to threaten to challenge him when she did catch him around town.

Jayen just shot him an angry look.

"I heard she and her proteges swept the Giannet Tournament last week. All the golds, half the silvers." Lessandra was a professional duelist, her career sponsored by Malthusius as part of her bargain to bear Corin's heir.

"I don't want to make _small talk_ ," Jayen said.

"So get on with it then. I thought you were angry."

"I fucking pissed," Jayen snapped. "But it does no good to shout at you. You just make smart comments and tune me out."

"Because you shout about everything, it's exhausting. It's no good trying to talk to you seriously. You don't even know how to listen to people."

There was another tense silence. Jayen was the first to break it. "What did she say?"

"About what?"

"About everything! Where has she been? Why did it take her this long to show back up? She better have a gods damned good reason for what she did to you, or I'm going to strangle her with my bare hands!"

"You are not. Don't even talk to her. And don't try to act like you're upset on my behalf after all this time. You're just worried about what your father is going to do now that she's back."

Jayen swore under his breath at that, but he didn't deny it. Vico settled back in his seat and stared out the window until they reached Halcyon.

Seya was coming down the front walk toward the gate when they pulled up at at the gate. Vico bolted out of the car almost before it had stopped, relieved to see that she didn't seem hurt, but he stopped short of intruding on the school grounds. He hadn't set foot in the place since getting himself emancipated at age seventeen, wouldn't even walk past if he could help it. It held too many memories, good and bad, for him to deal with.

"What are you doing here?" Seya asked, her eyes flashing as she watched Jayen get out of the car. He was glowering at them both. "With _him_."

Hearing that, Jayen started around the car. There was a great deal of anger swirling around in his aura, and he was radiating a blend of jealousy, insecurity and resentment that Vico recognized and probably should have expected—apparently some things never changed. Jayen's weak spiritual magic meant that he was worse than average at keeping his feelings contained, and at the moment he wasn't even trying.

"Sorry, it was faster to let him drive me than to get permission to take one of the work cars," Vico said, shooting Jayen a warning look. "Tor came around talking shit about you, and I got worried." He stepped back from the gate in surprise as the magic in the wards shifted without warning and then shut in front of him. Behind Seya he saw Master Montreides coming down the walk, and he did not look happy.

"Is there a problem out here?" he asked, the words clipped sharp with warning.

" _Is_ there a problem?" Vico asked, glancing from him to Seya.

"There is, actually," Seya said, "someone just locked me in while I was trying to leave." She shot Montreides a flinty-eyed look before turning back to Vico. "And you! You seriously came running across town because of something that idiot Tor said? What is wrong with you? If _someone_ hadn't stopped me he'd still be out here picking bits of himself out of the street."

"Excuse me for worrying after hearing the guy who once almost _killed_ you brag about scoring one on you in front of everyone and their gods!"

Montreides' eyes went wide. He turned to Seya "I beg your pardon, I did not realize you meant your earlier statement literally," he said. "Should I call the guard so you can file a report?"

Vico had been thinking of doing the same thing, but Seya went pale. "No!" she said, the word coming out a little too vehemently. She took a deep breath and went on in a more composed tone, "No, just open the wards. Please."

Zan hesitated, glancing at the two Malthusius on the other side. Seya narrowed her eyes at him. "You know that nice thing you just said about welcoming all Halcyon's students? Well, there's another one of us, right there." She pointed at Vico. "Or does the fact that he's Malthusius now count too much against him for all those high minded ideals of yours?"

Montreides started back as though she'd slapped him. "Ah—no, of course not." He waved the wards open to let her out, his eyes flicking over Vico, a slight, bemused tilt to his brow. Vico gave him a perfunctory smile and took Seya by the arm. She shook him off irritably.

Jayen scoffed. "Looks like she's just fine, how nice, get in the damn car. I've got better things to do than hang out here while you two get reacquainted."

"It's nice to see you haven't changed at all, Jayen," she said. "I was so afraid you might have grown up and become a proper member of society while I was gone, but you've certainly settled my fears on that account."

He responded with a vulgar gesture. Vico sighed. "Let's go, all right? Get some lunch. Talk."

"Like hell I'm riding anywhere with him," she said. She dug his key and his money out of her pocket and flung them at him. "I don't need your charity either."

"Damn it, Seya, it's not charity! We're family!" He gave an exasperated groan and turned to Jayen. "Look, Jayen, thanks for the ride, all right? I'm going to take lunch, but I can wait while you ping someone to meet you—"

"Whatever," Jayen snarled, slamming the car door and charging the engine much more than necessary. The energy of it reverberated up and down the street as he sped away.

❀

Seya glared after Jayen's car until it had disappeared around a corner with a squeal of tires. Vico rubbed his face. "Gods, tell me what have I done to be surrounded by so many difficult people?"

"Sorry for being difficult," she snapped.

They glared at each other for a long moment. Out of the corner of her eye, Seya saw Zan pause, eyeing them with concern. Then Vico gave a rueful laugh. "Wow. Just like old times, isn't it?" he said, and held out a hand to her, the awkward tension that had been lingering between them easing. Seya relaxed a little and let herself be pulled into his embrace. There might have been a decade and a broken bond between them, but he was still her Vico after all. For a moment, she felt more like herself than she had in years.

Vico draped his arm over her shoulder and gave her a mock punch to the jaw. "I forgive you. Just for being difficult, though. You'll have to work for the rest."

She leaned into him. It was still a little weird without the bond to buffer his feelings, but she smiled anyway. "There you go, love." Vico linked his arm through hers, propelling her up the street with a glance back over his shoulder at Zan. "What's his deal?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Tor cursed me right outside the gate. He, uh. Patched me up."

Vico's eyebrows went up. "Ah. You didn't catch him, did you? Is that still a thing?"

Seya looked over her shoulder and saw Zan was heading back inside. "I don't think he's the susceptible type? He's just…nice."

"Hmm," Vico said with a slight but palpable trace of doubt, though he declined to pursue the subject. "So, now that we've had a bit of a shout at each other, why don't you tell me where the hell you've been all this time?"

She made a bitter face. "At this point it'd be easier to list the places I haven't been."

"Are you hungry? Let's go get some lunch. You can list them out. Or were you just going to abandon me again after all?" He said it like a joke but she could feel the edge behind the words.

"You're still a manipulative bastard," Seya said. "Is everyone I see today going to attack me or try to save me from myself?"

"Of course. It's you we're talking about," Vico said.

"Is there a reason Tor's out harassing people in the middle of the day or is that just a Malthusius perk?"

He didn't say anything, but she could feel the tension in his aura as he considered the problem. They walked in silence for a while. Finally he said, "Corin wants to see you. He probably had people sent to keep an eye out for you."

"Are you one of them?"

" _Hell_ no. The last thing I want is to chase you off."

It was true. She could feel the sincerity radiating off of him. She cleared the tightness from her throat and asked, "What did you tell him?"

"He asked if I had seen you. I said I had. That's it."

"You can tell him I said he can go to hell."

They came to a little cafe, a small, privately owned, and more importantly, unaffiliated place, which meant there would be no Malthusius or any other clan bonded to interfere. Vico practically dragged her inside. She chose a seat in the back, facing the door, and Vico sat across from her, elbows on the table, a frown on his face. His eyes kept dropping to her gloved hand, but he didn't say anything, even after he noticed that she had seen him looking. "So what were you really doing at the school?"

She told him a carefully edited version of the incident in the market with the pickpocket, not wanting him to know how she needed to avoid the attention of the guard. His frown deepened as he mulled over the story, and his concern only grew as she told him about the dissonant undercurrents she had been looking at all morning.

"That's become a common occurrence around here, unfortunately," he told her.

"There must be someone doing something to cause it then."

"Probably so, but I haven't really gotten out much lately. I'm working Mediations, and there's an imminent factory opening that's been taking up all my time. Affiliation with a Talese farming co-op. If I was still working security—" He shrugged. "Can you show me what the kid looked like? I'll keep an eye out for her."

Seya glanced around the cafe. It was a slow day, only a couple other patrons, none of whom were paying them any attention. She held her hands out and summoned up a visual memory of the girl for him.

Vico studied it intently. "She doesn't look familiar, but I can ask Jayen, I guess." He didn't sound terribly enthusiastic about the idea.

"You said you weren't together anymore, but he's okay driving you around looking for me?"

"It was more like he wanted an opportunity to shout at me for not telling him you were back. I should probably ping Micah to check on him. He's not supposed to be out by himself. Someone tried to kill him a couple of weeks ago."

"Only once?" she snorted.

He gave her a look of faint reproach, then laughed and shook his head. "Yeah, he can be just as much of an ass as ever, I'll give you that."

"What did you even see in him?"

She didn't miss the undercurrent of sadness in his aura even though he tried to hide it behind a cheeky smirk. "Well, he's a pretty hot ass…"

"Ugh, stop. You're practically my brother, I do not want that image in my head." For some reason that made her think about Zan's hands on her. She shook the idea away, slightly unnerved—she'd never let herself get close enough to anyone to entertain those kinds of fantasies, but she couldn't forget the feel of his magic, or the warmth of his touch. She sat up and frowned at Vico.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said. For a second it had felt like he was reflecting at her—loneliness, frustration—but that was impossible. They didn't have a bond anymore. Did they? Something felt different now that the initial awkwardness was gone, but she was afraid to examine it too deeply. Though not looking made her just as anxious.

Their food arrived then, a welcome distraction, and they ate, settling into a companionable silence so easily that it only fueled the tension building in her. She had been running around refusing to trust people for so long it felt wrong, like he would turn around and lash out at any moment. She almost wished he would. She'd expected to be rejected and tossed out, or informed on to Corin, or to the guard; to be welcomed back with kindness and concern was too much.

She pushed aside her half-eaten food and put her face in her hands.

"Seya?"

Of course he sounded concerned. "Stop it," she said. "Just stop! Be angry, or throw me to the wolves, or whatever. I know what I did was horrible. This is hard enough already."

"What's hard? Leaving again? That's not much incentive to be a jerk, you know," he said, poking the top of her head.

"Don't pretend you aren't mad!" She sat up and glared at him.

He leaned back and threw his arm over the back of the booth. "If I'm being scrupulously honest—and I'd only do that for you, you know—yeah, I'm mad. I mean, you were the only family I'd had for years, and you abandoned me without a single word. Severed me." He shut his eyes against the memory of pain strong enough to show in his aura. "Gods, Seya, do you know how much that hurt?"

"Yes," she said, her eyes dropping to the table top. She knew very well.

"I was pissed about that beyond all reason for years. But I worried about you all the time, too. Because we are family, and damn blood and bonds that might say otherwise. I can't promise not to unload the angry part on you at some point, but right now, I'm just really, really glad you're alive. I love you, you idiot. You're the other half of my heart. That's never going to change."

She couldn't say anything to that. A faint spark of their old bond flickered up between them, warm and familiar and overflowing with humbling sincerity that completely undid her. Vico handed her a napkin and studied the poster on the wall over their table until she had stopped crying. "So. No more talk about leaving?" he said, reaching tentatively to the fragile connection.

"No promises," she whispered. It took all her willpower not to embrace what he was offering. It wasn't something to be accepted lightly, and she wasn't staying. She couldn't do that to him again. His disappointment was evident even without the bond, but he just cleared his throat and changed the subject back to recounting the reminisces he'd begun that morning.


	9. Confrontations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If this chapter seems familiar it’s because I copy pasted the wrong chapters into the wrong documents last week, because ADHD is so fun. So you *might* want to go back and read the actual chapter eight. Sorry. I’m posting an extra chapter this week to make up for it. :)

Jayen sat down at the bar at Dacie's. He was angry, and everyone in the place knew it. It was full of Malthusius bonded and affiliates, and sensing the fury radiating out through his patchy internal shields, they gave him a wide berth. Except for the proprietress, who was running the bar herself today.

"Shot of my usual," Jayen said as she sidled up to greet him.

She gave him a stern look, planting her hands on her hips. She was a round, buxom woman of forty-odd years who looked agreeable and unassuming, but as a retired veteran of Malthusius security, she was fully capable of breaking skulls and blasting the rowdiness out of her patrons when they needed it. She had been Jayen's crew leader when he started out in security, and part of his regular rotation of bodyguards before that. She was also a friend of his mother's and tended to administer all the motherly disapproval Lessandra never bothered with outside the dueling circle. "Aren't you on duty today? As the head of security, you ought to set a better example."

"I'm taking a personal day," Jayen said. "Just pour the drink, Dacie."

This did nothing to lessen her disapproval. "Is this really how you want to handle the situation?"

"Does literally everyone know about this already?"

She gestured to the far corner of the room, where Tor was in the middle of an animated retelling of his morning. He noticed them looking and gave a mockingly agreeable wave. Jayen swore under his breath. "Everyone in the whole damn town is going to know by dinnertime."

She shrugged and poured him a shot of his favorite whiskey. He downed it immediately and smacked the glass down on the bar.

"Should I leave the bottle?" she asked with just a touch of sarcasm.

"No," he muttered. He knew perfectly well he couldn't afford to act like a self-indulgent brat, especially with Seya back in town. He'd spent his entire childhood being compared to her—the magical prodigy, the child Corin really wanted as his heir. His father had made no secret of the fact. Jayen had excellent high elementalist levels, a wall full of dueling trophies, and a fiercely loyal personality that drew the younger generations of the Malthusius to him, but that would do him no good if he couldn't manage the clan's bond magic. Or get the high tier to take him seriously as a candidate. His father had officially named him heir last year, but it was all uphill from there. The high tier considered him a waste to the bloodline, with his weak spiritual magic and his inexplicable preference for a boy from the rival clan Malthusius was directly responsible for having sundered. But there was nothing to be done about his magic, and it was not in Jayen's nature to back down from a fight, or to abandon people he cared about. Even sly, redheaded bastards who'd broken his heart for reasons he did not quite understand and were currently pissing him the hell off.

"Let me guess, you went to see her and got abandoned by your favorite toy," Tor said, slipping onto the barstool next to his. "I'm sorry, ex-toy."

Jayen stood to go. Being around Tor was an unpleasant reminder of all the crap he'd done as a stupid, angry, rebellious teenager, and he'd been working his ass off for the last few years to distance himself from all that. Vico's rebuke from the night before was stinging in his ears, too.

Tor clapped him on the shoulder. "Come on, man, you can't take a little friendly ribbing for old time's sake?" He waved at Dacie. "One for me, and another for my old friend."

She came back down to their end of the bar, her disapproval nothing like motherly as she poured out Tor's drink. She left Jayen's glass empty.

"You can leave the bottle," Tor said.

"I don't want a repeat of last Friday, Torrance McKellen. Don't you think for one second your mama's influence is worth a good god's damn in my place."

"Come on, Dacie, I paid for the damage," Tor said. He shot Jayen a smirk and poured him another shot. "You missed all the fun, crawling off early, Young Master. Nice little duel."

"Duels have rules," Dacie snapped, sharp as cut glass, with a meaning look at Jayen before she left.

Jayen made a mental note to come back later and ask her what she meant by that. He brushed Tor's hand off his shoulder. "I've got things to do," he said, with quick glance around to see who all was watching. They settled on Davin Gates and he ground his teeth, wishing he had said it louder, possibly with some swearing.

"We've got a bet going on, me and a few of the other night crew guys," Tor said. "You'll be pleased to hear they favor you to remain heir despite your older sister turning up out of the blue. The show of loyalty was truly moving. On the other hand, a couple of the guys from L&R were here, and they think Seya's magic puts her back in the running."

"She was never in the running," Jayen snapped. "There's no legal way for her to be named unless she finally submits to a blood trace, which she'd never agree to do. She hates Malthusius."

"She did hate us," Tor said. "But now her precious bond brother is ours. Personally, I think it's a toss up as to whether they'll decamp together, or if she'll decide she's desperate enough to come crying to dear old dad after all this time. It has been a long time, after all. She could want anything. Or everything."

"You're so full of shit, McKellen," Jayen said, but truthfully, he felt an unpleasant twinge at that. He'd been so angry that no one had told him she was back that he hadn't thought much about what was going to happen next. "The high tier would never have her. Not with her mother's history." He said it mostly to reassure himself. The idea of her usurping his position was bad enough, but Vico running off with her was entirely too plausible.

Tor shrugged and tossed back his drink. "Sure, Jayen. I'm absolutely certain you're right. It's not like Marc and Corin were arguing about this very subject all morning. I mean, there's no reason to. If they agreed."

Addison would never agree to have her. If Tor was telling the truth, that meant his father was arguing for her. "You're a liar. Always have been," Jayen said.

Tor threw him a cocky smile. "Maybe you want to go talk to your old man before you go throwing around hurtful accusations like that. I had it from Marc's own mouth."

"When he asked you to go stir up trouble," Jayen said. "Don't think for a second you won't see any repercussions for cursing people on the street. I want you in my office first thing tomorrow to have a nice chat about that."

"She attacked me," Tor said.

"I can't imagine why she'd freak out after running into the guy who once broke her skull."

"I was acquitted of that."

Only because his mother had bought off the justiciar who'd presided over his case, Jayen knew.

"She dented my car with an illegal casting, maybe you should go talk to her about that."

"Then you should have called the guard! Halcyon is in municipal territory. We have enough problems without having a complaint filed against us from a bondmaster."

"Montreides is a joke. He's never bothered before."

"Did he have reason to bother?" Jayen asked, his tone sharpening. He had no great sympathy for Halcyon or its pacifist bondmaster, but he didn't tolerate his crews harassing people from other territories.

Tor just smirked. "Talk to your dad, Jayen. You're going to need allies on the high tier before this is over, if you want to keep your inheritance. Lucky for you, I'm still willing to consider you a friend."

Jayen left before he could lose his temper. He'd have dearly loved a reason to throw Tor out of his department, and not just because it would make Vico happy. Letting him in at all had been a mistake. If Tor's mother hadn't been such a big deal on the high tier, Jayen would never have given him a place in security, or even associated with him—he was lazy, and a troublemaker, and there were a number of other very good reasons why they weren't friends anymore. He should have held firm to that. Accepting the request made him look like he was caving to the McKellens' influence after years of holding out. But rejecting it would have made him look petty over an incident that had happened over a decade ago, to say nothing of the inevitable claims that he was being preferential towards Vico, which was dangerous. For both of them.

He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Clan politics was Jayen's own special version of hell. He had no natural talent for it. Jayen preferred the straightforwardness of working security or engaging in duels—assess the threats and weaknesses, shore up against them, attack when necessary. He knew when he'd won. He didn't like needing to weigh every action and word and glance for the layers of intent, make sacrifices for the greater benefit.

He was learning, slowly, but it had all gone so much more smoothly when he'd had Vico to help. Vico, who was so used to being beset on every side that playing them all against each other was second nature. He was a sharp observer, and fully capable of charming or manipulating information out of even the most truculent of adversaries, and he never forgot anything. His absence had thrown just how much Jayen had taken his skills for granted into sharp and unforgiving relief.

Some things, Jayen felt, should not be let go, even if it meant a loss—which made it that much more important to win. He was still trying to figure out how to keep both of the things he wanted—his place as the future leader of the Malthusius, and Vico.

Though technically Vico was not his anymore, and had not been for nearly a year. But he was still within reach. That had to mean something, that maybe some small part of him had not given up on them. Jayen had been clinging to this slender thread of hope for months, and now there was a weight heavy enough to snap it completely.

Jayen got in his car. He tried to ping his father, but got no response. Micah was at lunch with his girlfriend, but promised to keep an ear out for him. Landen, head of the night crew, was not answering—probably asleep. He swore under this breath and pinged Hanna to tell her to have Landen contact him and to grill her about what was happening at the compound. No one knew where his father was—out on a business lunch was all he gleaned, but who knew if it was true. His father didn't feel the need to keep him apprised of his actions, even keeping his own security staff, separate from the Jayen's department.

Jayen clenched his fists around the steering wheel. He wanted to think that the progress he had made, becoming head of security, taking his place on the high tier, earning what loyalties he had—that all that meant something too, but the truth was, he just didn't know. It was impossible to tell where he stood with Corin. He was an undemonstrative and demanding figure towards everyone, and his son was no different. Only Seya was different.

Had been different.

Jayen pinged Micah again.

- _tell me where Vico is_ -

- _I thought you were with him! are you seriously running around by yourself again?_ -

Jayen let his impatience answer for him. Micah finally pinged him back with the address, and an admonition not to lose his temper again.

He was parked across the street from the tiny, unassuming cafe as Vico and Seya walked out. Vico wore an easy smile, his posture relaxed. Even though Jayen knew perfectly well how much of his usual easygoing manner was deliberately cultivated to controvert his poor status and worse reputation, and to fool people into underestimating him, it still rankled, because it had been a year—no, more than a year, since he'd looked that much like himself, and it had to be Seya's doing.

❀

Vico was fairly happy, despite Seya's noncommittal response to his offer. Just knowing their bond was not completely gone filled him up with a sense of purpose he had been lacking—he had no idea how it was even possible after so long, but it gave him a foothold. He wasn't going to give it up.

He was sick to death of giving things up.

Seya had always been resistant to verbal manipulation—she could read people too well for that—so he had spent the entire mealtime dropping vague hints as to his current problems and being more open than usual with his emotional baggage. Empathy had always been her chief weakness. The incident at the market with the pickpocket and her concern over Starling's tainted resonance meant she was still in the habit of poking her nose into things that didn't sit right against that overactive sense of hers. He thought it was working before Jayen came storming across the street toward them.

"You!" he barked, making directly for Seya. "What are you doing back here?"

Seya stepped back. "Here was my home for most of my life. I think I'm entitled to check in now and again if I like."

Vico could tell by the way he was moving toward her and his entirely too vibrant emotional state that he was prepared to get right up in her face about something. "Stop it," he said, planting a firm hand on Jayen's chest to make him stop. His eyes darted to the car—empty. "Are you seriously still running around by yourself? How much of an idiot do you need to be about this?"

"Are you fucking kidding me? You're the one who let me go off on my own earlier! It's kind of obvious where your priorities lie!" Jayen scowled over Vico's shoulder at Seya. She lifted her chin and glared back.

Vico had a sudden urge to shake them both. "You're the one who left rather than act like a rational adult about this situation! Gods and spirits—ping someone from security right now!"

"I don't need a damn babysitter!" Jayen said. He pushed Vico's hand away and tried to get around him.

But Vico would not be moved. He grabbed Jayen by his collar with one hand and planted his other forearm across Jayen's chest, backing him up bodily. "Stop it," he repeated, then drew back, incredulously. "Have you been drinking?"

"I had one drink!"

"It's one o'clock in the afternoon!" Vico had found it a little worrying, how much time Jayen had been spending at Dacie's lately; he'd never been much more than a social drinker before.

"You lost the moral authority to police my lifestyle habits when you left me!" Jayen snapped. Vico flinched at that and looked away, remembering a fraction of an instant too late that he needed to keep his feelings in check. Seya had picked up the hurt, if the way she narrowed her eyes at Jayen was any indication.

Jayen went on, oblivious. "And who cares, get out of my way! I'm here to talk to her."

"You can talk just as well from this distance," said Vico. "If what you really want is to shout out all your problems in the middle of the street."

"If you think I'm gonna let her come back here and take away everything I've been working for—"

"No one is trying to steal your inheritance," Vico said, grabbing him by the arm as he went after her again.

"You shut the hell up, Vico, I know you didn’t just forget to tell me she was here—or that Dad wanted to see her—or that he tried to bribe you to get her to talk to him! Is that what this is about? More of your playing us against each other?" He moved to pull Vico's hand off of his arm, but stopped, not quite touching him. They glared at each other for a long moment.

Vico let go. "I already told you my reasons."

"You gave a reason. Gods only know if it's the real one. I know you, you don't mind lying if it gets you what you want."

Vico's expression went cold at that. "I don't lie to you."

Jayen gave him a look of pure outrage and pointed at Seya over his shoulder.

"Not telling you things that are none of your gods damned business is not lying. We are done with this conversation. Seya, let's go home." He turned away, taking her arm with a hand that trembled slightly.

"We are not done here," Jayen said, clapping his hand down on Vico's shoulder. Vico, being much lighter built, found himself moved resolutely aside as Jayen advanced on Seya. She backed out of his reach, her eyes dark with anger and warning. She had always enjoyed a good duel, but in an actual fight, one with fists and grappling hands and searing emotional proximity, Vico knew she was at a serious disadvantage.

"I don't want to see your father, and I sure as hell don't want your clan, but if it's a fight you want, I'd be more than happy to kick your ass one last time," she spat.

Vico shook his head, stepping back as they started shouting at each other. He'd been trying to keep them out of each other's aural spaces for exactly this reason. At least it was just shouting, though it was tempting to give up and let them fight. Even during the brief time when they had tried to get along for his sake, they couldn't help it—their magic just clashed that way. Vico didn't even think it was entirely their fault. They both had such headstrong personalities already, and the fact that they had been raised on a collision course practically from birth did not help. Of course their magic was going to react. In truth, he'd always felt they got along better when they let it run its course. Seya's feelings on the subject of her unacknowledged half-brother were complicated, and Jayen had never been good at dealing with his own conflicted loyalties. It was something Vico had been working on fixing before Seya had disappeared, with his usual wiles and a smattering of emotional blackmail, and carefully orchestrated fights, because no matter how angry they were, they were both too forthright to deviate from the rules of a proper duel.

Which…wasn't a bad idea.

He didn't need to feign annoyance, just give what he was actually feeling free reign. Jayen's attention was focused on Seya and their charmingly foul-mouthed verbal exchange—Seya had picked up some impressively colorful language somewhere. Her mother would have been horrified. He grabbed Jayen by the arm and tried to pull him away. "This is a bad idea," he said, "You two are attracting too much attention here. There are better ways to solve this—"

"This is between me and her. Gods damn it! After everything she did, you're still taking her side over mine?"

"There is no side!" Vico snapped back. "If the two of you want to blast each other into oblivion, that's fine with me, but not on a public street, where other people can get hurt!"

"I'm game if he is," she said.

"Are you challenging me?" Jayen demanded. "Because I would love to blast you right back out of town!"

"Fine, we're all in agreement, then. Get in the car, idiots. There's a park with a dueling circle a few blocks from here." Vico intercepted Jayen as he made for the driver's door. "No, I'm driving. You're a maniac behind the wheel even when you're not spoiling for a fight."

Jayen didn't try to argue. He tossed his keys at Vico and climbed into the front passenger seat. Vico opened the back driver side door for Seya before climbing into the car himself. "You know, between the two of you we ought to be able to scrape together at least one functioning adult." Vico glanced at Seya with a pointed frown as she buckled herself in.

"What did I do?" she asked.

"I thought you might have grown up a little, at least. I guess that was too much to hope for."

"I knew you were mad," she muttered.

"I bloody well am now!"

Jayen smirked at her. She glared at him over the back of the seat.

"Ugh, you two. You know, you were sort of friends at one point. It's been so long, why can't you just give that a try again?"

"That wasn't friendship," Seya said. "We were just tolerating one another for your sake."

Jayen slammed his fist into the window, venom spitting in his aura. The anti-shatter wards reverberated noisily.

"My two idiot children, back together at last," Vico sighed. Now they were both glaring at him. That was fine. He could play the common enemy if it got them to stop shouting at each other.

They arrived at the park a few minutes later, with a little more bickering on the way. Jayen barely waited for Vico to stop the car before bolting out and making a beeline for the dueling circle. Vico rolled his eyes as he got out. Seya hung back with him, even though her anticipation was obvious.

Fortunately the park was deserted in the heat of the afternoon. The dueling area was in the farthest corner of the park from the main road, hidden in trees, the better to keep any stray spellwork from interfering with the traffic. Jayen was standing at the edge of the stone circle, fairly vibrating with impatience. "What, are you having second thoughts? Get a move on!" he bellowed across the space.

So of course Seya took her sweet time. Vico matched her pace. After a moment, she frowned at him. "Did you want us to duel?"

He flashed her a charming smile. "Now why would I want a thing like that?"

"You absolutely did, you bastard!" she said. "So what was all that crap about growing up?"

Vico shrugged. "Thought I could use a little moral authority."

"And that line about not lying to him?"

"I didn't lie. All I said was there were better ways to deal with your disagreement. You're the one who challenged him."

"I can't believe I got taken twice today. I'm so out of practice," she said, shaking her head.

"What, changed your mind about fighting?" Vico asked.

"Hell no, I'm kicking his ass. And then I'm kicking yours for trying to manipulate me."

"I'm looking forward to watching you try," he said.


	10. Duel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An extra chapter because I flaked last week and posted the wrong one! If you missed the note on chapter nine you should probably go back and read chapter eight again. Things will probably make a bit more sense lolsob.
> 
> Content notes: sibling rivalry, magically instigated injuries within dueling rules, violence, serious injury to a main character, cliffhanger ending so if that bothers you you might want to wait until next week to read this one.

When they reached the circle, Jayen's hands were already flush with energy, the sparking red magic of his clan. He was of the Malthusius blood as well as the bond, so his sparked and snapped much redder than Vico's, even when Vico zapped it out of his hands to disperse in a shiver of scarlet. "If we're doing this, we'll do it by the rules," Vico said, ignoring Jayen's outraged exclamation. "Two of three strikes is a win—"

"Make it three of five, I want to see her begging quarter."

"Three rounds," Vico said, fixing him with a stern look. "No crossing the line, no physical violence. No face shots. Nothing below the belt." That last one was directed at Seya.

She shrugged. "Fine with me. I don't need to fight dirty to win."

"No, just like a suicidal maniac," Vico muttered. "Are you even carrying anything?"

She rifled through her pockets. All she had was the handful of coins that comprised her entire financial situation and a couple of small stone charms, long since depleted of their energy. Stone charms were the most reliable and cheapest for dueling and casual protection, but they took a long time to regenerate, and Seya hadn't stopped anywhere long enough recharge or trade them.

"Gods and spirits, woman," Vico said. "Don't wander around challenging people to fights when you're practically unarmed. Here, you can use my kit. It's pretty basic but you should be fine with it." He fished a leather cord strung with dueling chips from under his shirt and pulled it over his head, and took off the magnetic copper bracelet he was wearing as well.

"That's not fair, she shouldn't go around challenging people if she can't fight with what she has!" Jayen objected. "The rules say only what you bring into the circle!"

"You're not in the circle yet. And if you want to talk about fair, why don't you lose some of that flash and just fight with the standard issue chips. You're walking around with enough junk to start a war over there."

"Someone did try to kill me recently, not that you seem to care or anything," Jayen snapped. He pulled off his own dueling chips and tossed them on the ground, and began pulling off his jewelry as well. When he was done, all he had was a couple of rings—diamond, silver, steel, and the fire charm angling from his ear. "Like I'd need all this shit just to kick her ass."

"Like I need any chips to kick yours," Seya retorted.

"I said we're doing this by the rules, so you are taking these," Vico said, putting them in her hand and closing her fingers around them. He gave a sigh of exasperation as she stuffed the chips into her pocket without even looking at them, though she did put on the bracelet. He fished the fire charm out of his pocket and tried to hand it to her too, but she drew back in disgust. Bad enough she had to use his obviously Malthusius-manufactured charms; she wasn't going to touch something that was made of energy harvested from their bond-seated fire element.

Vico exhaled loudly and clipped the damn thing back onto his earring, then went to the witnesses' podium at the edge of the circle. He laid his palm over the ring of sigils carved into the top, activating the energy barrier meant to keep the dueling spells from escaping and causing damage to the surrounding area. A red line of light appeared, bisecting the circle. Seya chose the right side. Jayen strode into the left. "Damn it, Jayen, wait for my mark," Vico said, and Jayen raised his hands innocently, letting the red sparks fade on their own. "I swear to all the gods and spirits of Caldona, if you don't abide by the precepts I will report you to the Guard."

"When have I ever not! And anyway, you'd get in trouble too," Jayen said.

"So what else is new? All right, then, ready? First round!"

The words were hardly out before Jayen spun up a glittering spectacle of an attack, and lunging up to the edge of the line, he flung it at her full force. The Malthusius clan had always been partial to earth and fire, and it was a potent combination, perfect for fighting. His first attack was all blinding-sharp-hot splinters of sunlight to distract and teeth of glittering diamond energy from his rings, infused with and bolstered by the biting red essence of the Malthusius clan magic.

It was very hard on Seya's defensive shields, but she held them as long as possible, the better to read his casting technique in her sense. There was nothing of subtlety in Jayen’s spellwork, it was all about the force behind it. He wasn't much better with spiritual magic than he had been she'd left, and that had always been his biggest weakness. When he fought with her, anyway. He was bad at reading attacks, and all the best defenses were grounded in internally-based spiritual energy. Having to depend on externally based elemental energy to protect himself meant he was at the mercy of what was at hand. His elemental levels were higher than hers now, she judged, not that it mattered. But at sixteen, he'd been too young to have taken his clan's pinnacle, and had to rely on the limits of his blood connection to the clan bonds. Now he was carrying the full weight of the Malthusius bond behind that, which was impressive even if he couldn't utilize the full range of the spiritual energy it offered him. He used it freely, but it was like piling silk up to block a sword thrust—if you had enough, it worked, in a wasteful sort of way. Not that he cared. It was his birthright, regardless of his actual position in the clan, to use as he saw fit. The Malthusius magic was strong enough that wasting it on a pointless duel wouldn't even make a ripple.

She fingered the chips in her pocket: steel, a water charm, acid, spark, something generically stone-like—a synthetic composite? She didn't have a lot of experience with those, they were new magetech things. She didn't need them quite yet, not with the heavy summer humidity just begging to be used. She swiped it down and wrapped it around the sun splinters, absorbing them until the energy hissed and spat like water on a hot griddle, bound together carefully with her own spiritual energy to prevent a polarity reaction between the two opposing elements that might have rebounded her spellwork. The diamond energy she deflected by drawing out the polished coppery reflection from the bracelet; she spun it out in a wave around the outside of her shields. The sharp, angry edges were swiftly canceled out by their own energy, rebounding back on themselves with sharp cracking sounds.

It didn't last long. The surface of the copper grew duller and blacker as she spun out the reflective properties, until the spell finally winked out, but it had lasted long enough for her purposes. She had allowed a portion of the shards through, snatching them out of the air and stripping them of the clan magic Jayen had used to bind them to his will—one of those spiritual techniques he could not use himself. She wrapped them in the sizzling water/sun mixture and sent them back at him, coated in magnetic energy from the bracelet that she'd set to focus on Jayen to increase the force of the strike.

Jayen made a valiant effort to disperse them, but with each shard wrapped in its own barrier of spitting, angry heat, he couldn't break them all fast enough. The magnetism drew it directly into the heaviest part of his shields, situated over his chest where his magic was centered the strongest. It punched him backwards into the barrier, and he fell to one knee, momentarily stunned by the force of his shields being broken.

Seya was slightly disappointed that it had worked that well. She had expected more of a fight from him. Vico leaned over the pillar, half surprised and half concerned, until Jayen sat up, seething. His shirt was sliced across the front in several places, the skin underneath lightly abraded by the strike, which she had pulled back at the last second, in deference to Vico's restrictions—and also because she knew it would infuriate Jayen.

"That's one for Seya, then. Do you need a minute?" Vico asked.

"I don't," Jayen growled, standing up. "Don't expect me to be so restrained, either."

"Seya?"

"I'm good." She watched as Jayen collected the stray threads of magnetic energy—she thought she knew what he was going to do, and was already formulating her defenses accordingly.

"Just call it already!" Jayen snapped.

"Fine. Round two!"

Jayen was more cautious with his next attempt, disguising his intent with a flurry of fire energy drawn from his charm. His shields utilized the diamond energy from his rings but seemed more solid, even without using his clan magic or his limited spiritual abilities to shore them up. Seya was impressed despite herself, and wondered if he had only been testing her with his first attempt, or if he had underestimated her. It took considerable skill to manipulate pure elemental energy without a catalyst such as a clan bond or the strong spiritual sense she had inherited from her mother. One of the reasons clan magic remained popular even with the government restrictions levied after the Upriser's March was that it decreased the energy load of spell ignition and maintenance while amplifying the force behind it—one effectively borrowed from the power of the clan as a whole, with the combined spiritual magic of all the bonded magnifying the effect of the energy in a way purely elemental energy could not. It hadn't occurred to her that Jayen might have leveled his abilities so far up, but it had been a long time, after all. He’d always been the type to push himself. The thought sent a thrill of excitement through her; maybe this would be a proper fight after all.

Unable to discern the intent of his next attack, she shored up her magnetic shields with steel from the dueling chip, layering them with slick water and dense layers of air, and drafting a second attack, which she did not have time to finish before Jayen launched his own. She could sense the magnetic energy he had reclaimed at its fore, and shifted the focus of her shields to draw it away while she finished preparing her own attack. This proved a mistake. Jayen reversed the polarity of the magnetism at the last second, and she did not have time to recalibrate for it before it struck. Her shields reacted accordingly, bowing inward instead of holding, nearly shattering over her. She expended precious energy whipping up another shield with equally opposing polarity to protect herself from the first one, and that was when he launched his second blow: a steel-based attack laced with—silver? It was a whirling kaleidoscope of bright, blade-like energy, beautiful and deadly. Silver was not a strong metal, but the way he had laced it through the steel energy made it immune to the magnetic energy of her defenses.

She drew hard on the water charm, melding the energy with a searing dose of sunlight, stoking the mild polar reaction of the combination, and drove the boiling result out in a wedge before her shields. His metallic attack sizzled against it, softened by the heat and slowed by the cushioning properties of the water, and it was almost enough—but in the end his greater force outweighed her hastily constructed defenses, bending them nearly in half around her. The heat dragged against her arm and she gasped as she was scalded by her own shields.

"And one for Jayen!" Vico said, clearly surprised. Jayen dispersed the energy, looking down at her with smug satisfaction. Seya stood, smiling back fiercely.

"Seya, you want a minute?”

"I think I will take a few," she said. Jayen scoffed and summoned a swirl of clan magic to recharge himself. Seya examined the energy levels of the chips in her pocket, trying to decide on her next course of action.

Vico hopped over the low wall around the circle to examine her arm. It was a bit red, but it didn't hurt enough to bother her. "How come you're all concerned about her?" Jayen objected.

"You're the one who said you didn't need a break," Vico retorted. "That's how it works. You know the precepts."

"What, is she made of glass? Get a move on!"

Seya draped her arm over Vico's shoulder by way of response, smirking at Jayen. His aura washed with fresh anger, and his clan magic rumbled in the air like silent thunder.

"You're awful," Vico said, not without humor, as he disentangled himself. "Ready?"

"Hell yeah," she said, giving him a shove toward the pillar and turning her full attention to her opponent. Jayen hadn't waited for him for resume his place as witness before gathering his energies for the final round. His clan magic bristled thick and fierce, hiding his preparations. Seya extended her sense to the edge of the barrier, watching for a hint of his next attack, whipping up a new shield of her own, a dynamic whirlwind of air and water, liberally threaded through with magnetism, lined inside with steel and stone, which she reinforced with more of her own energy than was probably wise, considering the attack she had planned. She truly had not expected to be pushed so hard by him, but it was a fight worth having. She was a little surprised by a pang of nostalgia for that brief time when they had almost been friends, and had fought with each other purely for the thrill of proving themselves instead of for the rivalry between them. She shoved those old feelings aside—she was the one who had left all that behind. She didn't have the right to regret it.

She concentrated on her casting; if Jayen was going to give her a one-two attack, she was going to go for three at the very least. That really was pushing herself—not that it was past her abilities, but there was already a slight ache blooming in the scars on her left hand, and while it didn't hurt enough to stop her, it was dangerous to squander too much of her own energy when she didn't know how much of the forced bond from her time as a member of Fifteenth Squadron was still in effect. If she used too much, the warding on it might lose integrity. She wasn't sure how low she'd need to get before that was a threat, and she'd just as soon not find out.

Well, it wasn't like she was planning on staying in Starling much longer. Ignoring the pang of regret accompanying the thought, she prodded discreetly at Jayen's defenses. They were solid; she was still unable to get a sense of his intentions, but the power he was manipulating was immense. She doubled the energy in her defenses.

"Round three!" Vico said, and Jayen unleashed his next attack, a burst of energy so heavily shielded with clan magic she couldn't read its composition. She answered it with a blunt, straightforward stone-based attack, something separate from the one she had originally planned.

She aimed slightly to the right, and when it hit, his shield shredded away to reveal another steel/silver attack. She shifted the polarity of the magnetism in her shields to cloak it against the silver's interference, barely in time for the blow to strike the left side of her shield. The clockwise motion combined with the reversed polarity to send the strike back at Jayen, and he lost valuable seconds dispersing it instead of launching his next attack. That left Seya more than enough to get out the first of her three-part casting, another blunt-force deluge of stone energy, jagged with the reclaimed bits of the diamond energy he had sent at her before.

Jayen swore violently as he was thrown off balance by her counterattack, and she pressed the advantage, whirling her second strike over and around his. His was a blazing orange flame, dense as stone, but with no metal or stone incorporated. The sheer intensity of the flames brought up the sense-memory of Keraday, and that made her falter for a second, left her scrambling to keep the momentum of her own attack,—stone energy, mostly from the circle under her feet, but she had coated it with the essence from the acid charm as well, and charged it with a white-hot spark. When it hit Jayen's steel-reinforced shields, it ate through enough to send a sharp shock at him, and he let out an undignified yelp, losing his control over the attack he was casting in an effort to keep his defenses up. It would have been her point, except when he lost control over his spellwork, it rebounded in spectacular fashion, knocking them both down. Her shields held, as did his, and they both fell back with no physical damage.

She expected Vico to call it a draw. By most conventional dueling rules it would have been, but Jayen shot him a glare as he opened his mouth. Vico threw up his hands. "Go on, then," he said in exasperation. That was fine with Seya. If she was going to be leaving Starling again, possibly for good, she preferred to go out on a victory, not a draw.

Losing was out of the question.

Seya quickly patched her damaged shields, though the furious tension she could feel from Jayen said he hadn’t bothered. He reached up, snatching the nearly depleted fire charm from his earring and throwing it down on the ground. She assumed at first it was a fit of temper, and snatched the moment to further reinforce her defenses and finish the casting on her next attack, but then he brought his heel down on it. It took the full weight of his aura to break the tiny, magically-reinforced glass sphere and release the scintillating spark captured within. Seya watched in shock—not that he could do such a thing, but that he would. She heard Vico swearing to himself at the recklessness of trying to use a pure fire elemental, but Jayen didn't seem to have the least problem controlling it. In an instant, he had twined his clan magic to it to create a raging wall of orange and red flame between the two of them.

There was no chance of countering that with the elements Seya had on hand. She could have broken open Vico's water charm in response, but she didn't have a virtually unlimited clan connection to draw from to replace the energy it would cost. He wasn't leaving her any choice, so she drew deeply on her own energy to shore up her defenses even further; pain lanced up her arm from the scars on her left hand, reminding her that she couldn't afford to waste it. She sent her sense out to the edges of the barrier, searching for a weak spot in the flames and trying to anticipate his next move. Her intention was to avoid it rather than counter it directly, wait for him to expend his energy, then launch her own attack. No matter how much bond energy he had access to, he still needed physical endurance to manage it. He was using a lot of energy to control the flames, so it was a tossup as to which would falter first, him, or the elemental.

If it isn't me, she thought, tensing as she felt the power fueling the fire surge. He didn't hold back, just slammed it at her in a brute-force attack that would have easily decimated her shields had she not vaulted out of the way. She couldn't avoid it entirely. The heat devoured the energy of her defenses where the two met.

She heard Vico shouting something, presumably at Jayen for trying something so dangerous, but his words were lost over the roar of the flames. Jayen wasn't trying to kill her; though she felt the fire far closer than was comfortable, he focused it on her defenses and batting at her with only his clan magic. He wasn't quite fast enough, but he sent volley after volley of it after her as she darted and dodged. It took every reflex she had built up over the years, but she managed to come out physically unscathed, though her shield was in tatters before she could find a spare second to launch her last attack. Sweat poured off her, from both heat and exertion, stinging her eyes so she could barely watch him, and she found herself relying more on her sense, which also cost her energy she didn't have to spare, even if it wasn't much.

But Jayen was flagging too. His fire elemental had all but burned itself out, and he was forced to rein in his attack so he could summon more energy to keep it going. Seya dropped to one knee, panting, her left hand clenched in a fist at the stabbing pain—if she didn't attack soon, it would all be over. It had probably been a mistake to challenge someone when she wasn't really up to her usual standard, energy-wise.

"Hey, guys, let's just call it a draw!" Vico called across in the sudden lull. Jayen snarled a reply that was lost amid the rumble of his casting. Leaning forward, Seya readied her attack and opened her sense one more time, panting at the effort it cost, and felt his magic gathering. Something felt—wrong—like there was more coming from outside the barrier—had more of Corin's people arrived? No, there was no one in her interior-shielded sense range. She thought for one incensed moment that Jayen was preparing some spellwork outside the barrier to throw her off—but that was not his way, he’d always kept to the precepts—and it didn't feel like Malthusius energy anyway…

"The hell, Jayen—" Vico shouted, then stopped abruptly, as he came to the same conclusion Seya had. Spellwork, composed of water and something sharp and deadly, swooped in toward the circle. The magic breached the barrier easily—it was composed to keep spellwork in, not out—and Jayen stood directly in its trajectory.

Jayen, whose already weak sense was drowned out by his own casting, his attention focused between his next attack and Seya's defenses, did not see it. It was not a single person's attempt, but some obviously cooperative effort, perhaps an unfamiliar clan magic, though it lacked the proper markers, and the greater force plus the water/sharpness combo would decimate his fire-based shields easily. And there was a curse bound up in it, something vicious and hungry. Vico and Seya both ran for him. "Gods, Jayen, get down, get down!" Vico shouted, fingers flying to his fire charm to spin up a defense, but Jayen only turned toward him furiously, likely thinking Vico was trying to enforce a draw to end the duel.

Seya was closer, and prepared for a fight as well, so she did what she thought would work better—slammed her prepared attack, and herself, into Jayen's defenses while he was distracted by Vico, pumped with every spare scrap of energy she could muster, and dragging together the remains of her shield in an effort to blunt the force of the attack as she knocked him down to the circle.

It would have worked—if the attack had not been targeted. The tell-tale intent came across too late for her to do anything but wonder how they had managed to learn enough of his aural signature to do such a thing. She felt Jayen's outrage and then his burst of fear and anger as he realized what had happened. He tried to redirect his attack into a defense, and that, with Vico's attempt to defend the two of them, was the only reason she wasn’t killed immediately as the shredding force of the strange attack tore through her battered defenses and slammed across her back and left shoulder trying to get through to Jayen.

It hurt like hell, and that was before the curse latched into her blood. She was vaguely aware of Jayen swearing, and Vico shouting her name; aside from that there was only pain, and then merciful blackness.


	11. In which there is another unexpected reunion, Jayen gets to take charge, and there is a LOT of blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: there is a lot of blood in this chapter.

Chapter Eleven

Vico sank to his knees next to them. Seya was crumpled against Jayen, limp, her vibrant aura dimmed and lacing with shadows as he watched. Gods, there was so much blood—for a split second he wasn't even sure they hadn't both been hit, but then Jayen sat up, lowered Seya onto the circle, his eyes wide and horrified as he took in the amount of blood on his clothes and puddling beneath Seya's still form. But then his security reflexes kicked in and he was on his feet, reestablishing his battered shields and sweeping the perimeter. "Clear," he said hoarsely.

Vico barely heard him as he peeled back the bloody slivers of Seya's shirt with shaking hands to assess the damage. "Oh gods, oh gods," he said as he felt the sting of the curse in the blood that got on his skin—she had always been so sensitive to curses… It was a bad one too, the energy of it sinking into her flesh and causing a hemotoxic reaction, making the bleeding worse as it spread.

He ripped off his uniform shirt and was trying to apply pressure to the series of deep, razor-thin slashes across her back and shoulder, his breathing uneven and a little hysterical. "Oh gods," he said, "I can't—this is—I don't—"

"Stop panicking!" Jayen said, dropping down next to him, and gripping his shoulder. "Damn it, Vico, look at me! You used to do this all the time when yo worked security! You know what to do. Put a block on it so we can get out of here without causing her further damage!"

"I know that!" Vico said, his voice rising, "But—Seya— There’s a curse, Jayen, a bad one, she can't—"

"I know all that, but it's all the same if she bleeds to death, so just fucking do it! I'd do it myself but it’s too much spiritual magic, I'd just mess it up. You're the only one here who can do it."

His take-charge tone had a grounding effect. Vico took a deep, shuddering breath and forced himself back to center. He could do this. Everything would be fine. He was not going to let Seya die when he'd only just got her back. He worked up the blocking spell and laid it over the worst of the bleeding, working it into the network of smaller cuts and trying not to look at the wreck the curse was making of her magic, or think about how closing it up like that left it free to leech further into her blood and increase the chances of irrevocable damage.

"Good, now let's get out of here," Jayen said. "I'll carry her. Cover me."

"Right," Vico said. He drew up his shields and glanced around as Jayen picked Seya up. "There's no one in my sense range," he said, forcing his voice to steady as he spoke. "If there are any attackers left, they're well shielded. Ready?"

"Yes," Jayen said, shifting Seya in his arms to get a steadier grip.

Vico stared down at the red slick marring the cream-white stone, reaching up to his fire charm to obliterate every drop. "She's not—still dripping, is she?" he asked, forcing his gaze toward the path back to the car, studying the currents of the energy over the ground, the trees and shrubbery, the motion of the air with his sense, trying to catch a glimpse of disruption to indicate they were still under threat. Nothing, but his range was not large, either.

"I don’t think so," Jayen said.

"Let's move," said Vico.

They encountered no resistance, nor any additional attacks. Vico suspected that the spellwork had been targeted, a hit and run assassination attempt, and this seemed to be confirmed when they made it to the car without incident. Vico stood watch the few moments it took for Jayen to load Seya into the back seat, then get in himself to drive. Vico climbed in the back, cradling Seya in his arms, one foot braced against the front seat to hold her steady as Jayen tore out onto the street.

Jayen was pinging Micah as he drove, to send people out to investigate. "Hierond is the closest temple," he said.

"We can't take her there," Vico said flatly. "If she woke up in the temple that refused to perform her mother's funeral rites, she'd probably rebound. Plus she never liked being around gods. The Halcyon clinic is closer anyway."

"Is that place even big enough to handle something like this?" Jayen asked.

"Aren will at least be able to keep her alive long enough to find a place that can."

"You're going to trust a guy who hasn't spoken to you in years?" Jayen said.

"Aren can be an ass but he wouldn't break his healer's oath."

Jayen zipped through the streets like a maniac, tires screeching at every corner, and for once, Vico didn't care at all. He studied Seya with worried eyes. The block was starting to falter under the spreading influence of the curse. Her skin had gone ashen-pale and her breathing was harsh and uneven. Worse was what it was doing to her magic. Her exterior shields were gone, and her interior shields were a mess, the energy structure maintaining them being bled dry by her body's efforts to resist the spread of the curse. That was enough for Vico to confirm what he had suspected that morning: there was something wrong with her magic. He had no idea what, only that it manifested as a shadow deep in her aura. It wasn't doing anything, it was just—there, growing slowly darker as she weakened. It had the feeling of a venomous snake, coiled and ready for the moment to strike.

Between that, and the curse, and the way her breathing kept getting weaker and shallower, it scared him. He reached out to their tenuous connection—she was rejecting him still, even unconscious. He squeezed her hand. "Come on, love, you'd really rather die than have me back?" he hissed, suddenly, irrationally and absurdly angry, even though she couldn't possibly be doing it on purpose. It might have been the appropriate response, or perhaps her strength had just faltered enough at that point, because whatever instinctive rejection existed abruptly ceased. Vico seized the fragile spark and held it, felt it establish—thin as a thread, but strong enough for him to pour his own energy through to help hold the curse at bay. He swore under this breath in relief as her color improved and her breathing steadied.

"What is it?" Jayen asked, tilting the rear view mirror to try and see what was going on.

"Nothing, just keep driving. I won't be able to keep this up for long."

❀

The humbly appointed Halcyon Clinic was nestled in the middle of a row of houses on the edge of downtown, most of which had been converted into small businesses some time ago, trees leveled and yards stripped out to become parking lots. The clinic had left its trees, which cultivated very stable spiritual energy, useful for their work, with healing requiring so much of it, and also making it easier to connect to the Halcyon bond—but it meant they had no proper parking.

Jayen parked the car as close to the front door as possible, heedless of the damage he was doing to the small lawn, and got out, his eyes sweeping the surroundings and finding them quiet. He opened the back door to fetch Seya out. Vico tried to hand her out to him, but he was pale as dust and trembling with exhaustion. He leaned against the car as Jayen hefted her to secure his grip and started for the door.

"Vico?" he said, when he realized he wasn't following.

"I'm coming, I just—overdid it bit, I think." Vico forced himself upright with visible effort and hurried ahead to get the door for them. A bell jingled as it opened, and they found the reception area empty of patients. Of anyone.

"They can't be closed," Vico said, gripping the doorframe. Jayen blinked at the sign. It said they closed at seven on weekdays. "Aren?" Vico called, his voice edging back towards hysteria. "Anyone!"

Aren Halcyon came out of the back a moment later, their intense relief. His face registered deep annoyance at Vico's presence, and then blank astonishment at Jayen's. "What the hell do you two want?" he asked, before he saw Seya, and the blood, and felt the curse, which was leeching out from the block now that Vico had let go of her. His eyes went wide. "Is that—"

"Yeah, can we get on with this?" Jayen said, shoving past him, toward the door labeled 'Exam Room' without waiting for permission.

Aren ducked around him, running ahead to prepare the table with a hasty disinfecting spell and grab some towels and antiseptic. "Put her there, face down," he said, and stepped forward to slice off the bloody remains of her shirt. He swore at the extent of the damage. "What the hell happened here?"

"Curse," Vico said from where he was leaning on the doorframe for support.

"Curse is an understatement," Aren said, dousing the wound liberally with antiseptic and sluicing the blood away with a brisk gesture. "How long has she been back?"

"Since last night."

Aren made a disgusted noise in his throat. "Of course. Spirits, but this is bad. I can't do this myself. Jayen, come over here and anchor her for me."

"I can't do that!" Jayen said.

"I'll do it," Vico said, straightening with an effort and coming to the table.

Aren put a hand on his shoulder in appraisal. "No, go sit down. Jayen can do it."

"I've never—don't you have an assistant or something to do this stuff for you?"

"My partner left early to do student health evaluations at the school. Seya doesn’t have time to wait for her to come back. Look, you can argue while she dies, or you can shut up and help. Pick one," he said, not waiting for an answer, just grabbing him by the arm and dragging him officiously to the table side, despite being about half Jayen's size. "Put your hands here," he said, placing one over the back of her neck and the other over her right wrist. "You can do this, you two have a blood connection."

"We do not!" Jayen said, an objection more of reflexive outrage than conviction.

"Shut up and listen to what I'm saying," Aren snapped. "Find her pulse. You can feel that energy, yes? Follow it in your sense. I know you don't have very good range," he added, as Jayen opened his mouth again, "but you don’t need much for a blood connection anyway." He put his hands over Jayen's and guided the faint threads of his sense through until he had established a connection between them. Jayen shuddered in revulsion at the feel of the curse invading his sense, but Aren seized it and held it off, binding it with a swift, practiced gesture. "See, that's not so hard. You don't need to do anything else, just don't let go."

Then he got to work.

Working security, Jayen had grown accustomed to the fact that people's lives would occasionally depend on him, but never in such a stark, personal way. He was aware that Vico was watching him, that he would probably never be forgiven if he failed at this. He wasn't sure if he would be able to forgive himself, truthfully. He’d never wanted this. He just wanted to beat her, prove he could after all this time. Prove he could stand equal to her. She wasn't allowed to die and leave him unacknowledged.

And yet…feeling the thready pattern of her life under his hands, the certitude of their connection, had a way of putting their old rivalry into perspective. He had known his whole life that they were half-siblings, but this made it real to him in a way it had never been before, even when they had fought over the fact as children. She could die, and he could feel the truth of that humming in his own blood. It felt wrong. And terrifying, but he refused to acknowledge that, channeling it into anger instead, using that energy to hold on while Aren worked, stripping out the worst components of the curse and deconstructing the physical reactions it had caused, putting shredded skin and muscle back together so it would heal with minimal scarring, painstaking work that took hours.

At some point during the proceedings, Micah pinged him, but he fielded the conversation to Vico, afraid to let his concentration waver.

They were both numb with exhaustion by the time it was over. Aren had Jayen remove his hands so he could judge her condition without interference. "Stable," he pronounced. "For now. It's a bit difficult to tell if I got it all while she's unconscious, but she’s out of danger at the moment." He went to the cabinet in the corner and unlocked it to fetch a pain ward, which he applied to the back of her neck. She stirred limply, her eyelids fluttering.

Vico pulled himself upright and went to her, smoothing the sweat-damp hair back from her face. "It's all right, love. Just rest for now," he said, and she drifted back out obediently.

Between the three of them, they managed to get her onto a gurney. Aren transferred her to the patient room at the end of the hall, Vico following to help. Jayen hung back, unsettled by the bright color of her blood against the white surface of the exam table, the lingering sensation of holding a life in his hands. He went out, to find Micah in the waiting room, his eyes fixed into the middle distance as he monitored the progress of the investigation through the clan bond. He tuned out of it when Jayen came over to him, and his expression grew alarmed as he took in the streaks of blood on Jayen's clothes, and the unease hovering in his aura.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "She's not—"

"No," said Jayen. "Halcyon says she should recover." He made an effort to center himself that was not entirely successful. "How long have you been out here?"

"Couple of hours. What happened? Vico told me you were attacked in the middle of a duel."

"We were almost done. She—" It hit him then, that she had literally thrown herself in front of a deadly attack to save him and nearly died for it. He could still feel the faint sense of connection pounding in his blood. It felt—bright, warm, like getting too close to a light charm. He sat, looked down at his bloody clothes. "Tell me what you found," he said, automatically, and forced himself to pay attention.

"We found these by the pond," Micah said, holding up a clear bag containing several shards of glass. Broken glass was popular tool for rough fighting and hit and run attacks—easy to find, with the hardness and sharpness of a deadly weapon just waiting to be drawn out. These shards were etched with a complex sequence of sigils—the catalyst of the curse. "No aural traces, they probably set up the spellwork beforehand, dropped it and set it off before getting out. They weren't there long enough to leave recognizable signatures in such a public place. I have Desielle from L&R looking over everything right now. She's pretty sure they used an aural trace to plot out the curse, but without knowing for sure which one of you was the target, she can't tell us anything more just yet."

"It had to have been me," Jayen said.

"If that's true, it shouldn't have stopped with her."

Jayen looked down at the reddish stains on his hands. He didn't feel up to talking about that yet.

"I have our people setting up a perimeter," Micah said after a long moment. "Here's the prelim." He handed Jayen a thin folder. "It's not much though. Waiting for Desielle's analysis. Did you need anything else?"

"Food would be good. Clean clothes. And—don't tell my father what happened yet."

Micah nodded and left to coordinate the security detail on the clinic. Jayen sat in the empty waiting room for a few more minutes before restlessness drove him to his feet. He found a bathroom to wash his hands using healers' soap, which was formulated to destroy blood traces, then went outside to look at the security spellwork Micah and Rena Soledad were setting up around the property—proximity alerts, a small series of wards. There was no fence around the property, which made the task more complicated, as wards required a physical seat to be stable. They could not sink them into the ground because the whole place was saturated with Halcyon's own bond magic, and the slightly less obtrusive resonance of the Thalessai-style shrine in the back yard. They settled for using the trees as tethers instead. "It's not as secure," he told Aren, when the healer came out to frown over the proceedings. "But it's better than nothing. It should hold until we get this straightened out."

"As long as it doesn't interfere with business," Aren said.

"I thought you closed down for the night."

"I still have a patient." He went to the shrine to check it over for interference, found none. He was holding a small bundle under one arm—the bloodstained shirts—which he deposited into the stone basin on the front of the shrine and drew from the fire charm hanging above it, setting it alight. He performed a purification rite over it that Jayen did not recognize, probably also Thelassai. "I can do this for your clothes too," he said, glancing at Jayen, who was watching him.

"I can take care of my own business," Jayen said.

Aren rolled his eyes and dragged Jayen inside to make him drink a foul-tasting concoction from the apothecary room. "It's to shore up your energy levels. Even if you don't have much in the way of spiritual magic it's still dangerous to get too low."

"What about Vico?"

"I already gave him a dose. He's resting." Aren jerked his head toward the hall. "Do you want me to fix your face while you're waiting?"

"Is it bad?" Seya had hit him pretty hard, but he hadn't really registered the discomfort until Aren called attention to it.

Aren studied him with a professional eye. "No, just some bruising."

"Then it's fine," Jayen said, disliking the idea of owing a Halcyon any more than necessary. He downed the last of the drink and went to check on Vico.

The Halcyon clinic was small enough that they only had one patient room, and Seya was laid out on her stomach on the bed closest to the door. There was another bed, which Vico had shoved as close to hers as possible. He was sprawled out on his side, asleep, one hand stretched across the small distance between them to rest on her uninjured arm. That made Jayen frown, his restless feelings settling into something hard and resentful. He went around the beds to the chair on the other side, because he had a better view out the window from there. The edges of his vision were blurred with light, and he wondered if that was a side effect of the drink Aren had given him, or if he was just that drained.

Micah had keyed him to the defenses, so he tried to concentrate on that instead of the tightness in his chest when he looked at the two of them. But he found himself continually distracted by the bright tousle of Vico's hair from the corner of his eye. It had been such a long time since they had been together in the same room without arguing immediately. Of course one of them would have to be out cold for that to happen, Jayen thought bitterly. His hand dropped, almost outside his volition, to brush against the coppery locks.

Vico bolted up with gasp. "Gods. You scared the shit out of me," he said, pressing his hands over his face and taking a deep breath. "What do you want?"

"Not for you react like I just attacked you," Jayen muttered. He wasn't going to say that he had just wanted to touch him because he was close enough. "Are you hungry? Micah is bringing food. Should I ask him to bring you a clean shirt, too?"

Vico glanced down at his plain white undershirt, still streaked with Seya's blood. "Food would probably be good," he said. The shirt he got for himself, his gaze flicking out at nothing as he concentrated. He held his hands out, palms up, and ported a tidily rolled up shirt from his apartment into them.

Only Vico would tag and organize his clothes so meticulously that he could fetch them whenever he needed. He was that way with everything, though. It had been extremely useful when they worked together. "You aren't going back to work?" he asked as he watched Vico pull on the clean shirt.

"I finished my work before lunch," Vico said, combing his fingers through his hair. He folded the bloody undershirt neatly and set it on the bedside table to be disposed of.

"You complained last night about how hard Marten works you, but today you could finish it all before lunch," Jayen said.

"Because I made sure I got away before he could pile more work on me. Is that the preliminary report?" he asked, his eyes on the thin folder Micah had left. Jayen handed it over to him. Another pair of eyes couldn't hurt. He didn't even care if Vico's reasons for involving himself in the case as if he was still part of the security devision were because of Seya or not. It was a chance to work with him again, however peripherally. He wasn't being ignored, and that was what mattered.

When Micah came back with the food and clothes, Jayen asked him to let Vico have a look at the physical evidence and Desielle's trace analysis too. Micah wasn't happy about it. "What are you doing here?" he asked, pulling Jayen aside as he was coming back from changing.

"What? He knows the drill. He ought to have been put in L&R, it was just Addison's bullshit that kept him out of it."

"No, I know how good he is as a mage," Micah said. "I worked with him too. I'm asking what you're doing. Here."

"I—" Jayen glanced into the patient room. He had thought the feeling of connection would fade out, but it was still there, and it made him feel like he shouldn't leave yet. Micah studied him, tipping his head to the side, his expression shifting from annoyance to surprise and then disbelief. They had been friends all their lives, and he knew Jayen's aura as well as his own, because Jayen was terrible at keeping it shielded. "Is that—"

"I don't want to talk about it," Jayen said.

"Have you told—"

"I said I don't want to talk about it!"

"Your father—"

"Do not tell him," Jayen said, fixing Micah with a glare.

Micah threw up his hands in disgust. "Whatever. Rena's pinging me about something, I have to go."

❀

Vico looked up from the preliminary trace analysis he was studying as Jayen came back into the room. "I'd like see the files from the previous attack. To compare."

"I'll bring them to you tomorrow," Jayen said.

Vico shut the folder and set it aside. Without context, it contained nothing particularly useful, and reading it had only made him think about the day three weeks ago when Lejan had come to tell him Jayen had been stabbed in the street. Of the cold feeling the news had left in his chest, of how he hadn't gone to the healers' offices because he knew no one would let him through to see for himself that Jayen was all right. He wished now that he had tried; he couldn't help but feel he might have seen something to indicate this kind of escalation was in the works.

He reached over to touch Seya's hand again. She was sleeping peacefully, knocked well out by a very strong pain ward. He felt the faint thread of their bond, warm and a tiny bit reassuring. He hadn't missed the faint connection that remained after Jayen had anchored her while Aren worked. That was…a surprise. Not an altogether unpleasant one, truthfully. It kind of caught in his throat, Jayen carrying Seya, standing for hours at the table to hold her back from death. He had forgotten Jayen could be so reliable.

Well, not forgotten. He knew exactly how good Jayen was at taking care of people. He ran his fingers through his hair again. "I'm sorry," he said.

Jayen looked down at him suspiciously. "For what?"

"I forgot you were being targeted. I should have been paying attention. Taken some precautions."

"You never forget anything," Jayen muttered.

"I'm not a damn memory charm," Vico said. "I do forget things sometimes." When he was upset, usually. Or, apparently, when an opportunity to put his life back together was dangled in front of him. The small warmth of the fire charm bounced against his jaw as he stretched the kink out of his neck. He unclipped it and held it out to Jayen.

Jayen reacted, predictably, with a flash of anger. "I told you I don't want that back!"

"I'm not returning it. This is a loan. I expect to get it back when you've replaced the one you broke."

Jayen made no move to take it, so Vico caught him by his collar and pulled him down close enough to clip it on his earring. Jayen huffed under his breath and reached up to touch the charm. "What if you need it?"

"I haven't needed it for ages." He'd been glad of the thing for a couple of months after their breakup, thanks to the challenges from people who'd seen his single status as an opportunity, and a certain amount of more blatant rough treatment from the McKellen faction, until Jayen had put his foot down about it. He'd never said as much, but Vico knew. "I'm not important enough to be targeted. Just a mediator."

Jayen disagreed with that assessment. Vico waved his objections away and took up the bag with the glass shards to examine it again. "It's hardly a secret that almost everyone in the clan would be happy to know I was gone. Did Micah say anything else about what they found at the park?" he asked, to change the subject.

"No," Jayen said. "Nothing else."

Vico watched from the corner of his eye as Jayen settled back into his chair. "You don't have to stay," he said softly. "I'm sure you’ve got things to do. We’ll be fine."

Jayen propped his feet on the edge of the bed and threw Vico a scowl, as if daring him to object. “You just rest like Aren told you. I’m not going anywhere.”

❀

Seya woke with her neck cricked from being turned to one side for too long. When she tried to sit up, pain lanced across her back and shoulder, and she flopped her face back down onto the pillow with a sharp gasp. It was just as well, she decided blearily; she seemed to have misplaced her shirt somewhere.

She turned her head and saw Vico sprawled on an identical bed a few inches from hers, one arm falling over the edge. Jayen was slumped in a chair on the other side of the bed Vico was occupying, with his head resting on the mattress, his feet propped up in another chair. "Vico," she said, and it came out a harsh cough because her throat was so dry.

Vico sat up, bleary. "Seya? Y'alright, love?"

"I guess," she said in a hoarse whisper. "You two okay?"

"We're fine, don't waste any energy worrying about us." He started to get up, swayed sightly, and sat back down. Seya felt a wave of dizziness that was not her own, and came to a slow awareness of the remains of the energy Vico had channeled to her to keep her alive, and the warm spark of the bond that had been reestablished between them in doing so. She shut her eyes, torn between gratitude for the fact that he had probably saved her life, and dismay for what it would cost him, for how hard that was going to make it to leave again.

"Hey, I'm fine, it's nothing," Vico said. Prodding at Jayen, he said, "Hey, she's awake, she's fine. Stop pretending to be asleep."

Jayen sat up. There was a pattern of bruises across his face from where she'd slammed into him. He glowered at her for a moment and then turned his glare out the window. It was dark out. "Whatever," he rumbled, but there wasn't much in the way of anger in his aura. His attention was focused somewhere outside.

The sound of their voices brought footsteps to the door of the room, and a testy voice. "Don't try to get up! Spirits, but you're just as much of an idiot as you ever were. Some things never change."

"Is that Aren?" she asked, her voice muffled into the pillow. He wasn't the last person she wanted to see, but he wasn't that far from the top of the list.

"It is," said Aren, "and you're welcome, by the way. That was a hell of a curse, nearly killed you."

"Thanks," she said, twisting her head to look at him. He had hardly changed at all since the last time she'd seen him; a younger version of his father, short and narrow-shouldered, his hair straight and dark, cut efficiently short. He even had the slight stoop from constantly bending over patients and medicinal brews, though the similarities ended there. The deep southern Caldi coloring and angular features he had inherited from his mother were somewhat tempered by his father's Thelassai blood, but his acerbic personality was all Winter. He had her same sharp, dark eyes and sharper tongue, and absolutely no tolerance for other people's nonsense.

"I brought you some water." He crouched next to the bed and held up a cup of water with a straw for her to drink. He was angry; it was snapping all over his aura, but he was professional enough to put her treatment first. "Is that enough?"

"Yes. Thank you," she repeated. He set the cup on the table and dropped a bundle onto the bed next to her. "I brought you a shirt. Your other one was irretrievably damaged by the curse, I had to burn it."

"Thank you."

"I'm going to check your injuries now," he said, and pulled back the sheet. Vico grimaced and looked way.

"That bad?" Seya asked.

"Well, not nearly as bad as before, but yeah. That's a bad curse."

"It was a bad curse," Aren said, running his fingers along the marks it had left on her back, testing them with his sense. Seya shifted uncomfortably at the intrusive, if necessary presence "It is now more of an inconvenient one. I managed to purify the bulk of it before it did any lasting damage. Fortunately for you I wasn't busy."

"Thank you," she said again.

"On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate the pain?"

"Eleven," she said, wincing aloud as he prodded a particularly raw spot on her shoulder blade.

He peeled the depleted ward off her neck and replaced it with a fresh one. "And now?"

She sat up cautiously. It still hurt, but not unbearably. "I don't know, five?"

Jayen turned way with a disgusted grimace. "Gods, woman, have some decency."

She pulled the sheet over her chest, rolling her eyes. "No one's asking you to look. What are you even doing in here?"

Jayen declined to comment. She frowned at him. With the pain reduced, she could read the restless, anxious energy in his aura—was he worried? About her? "I must be really out of it," she muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Hmm," Aren said. He added another ward, which reduced the pain to a dull, distant ache. "I suppose you have heard this enough times, but since you're obviously still a certified idiot, let’s go over it anyway: wards are not a substitute for full recovery. Do not make any sharp, sudden movements, do not exert yourself in any way, absolutely no fighting."

"Yes, Aren. Thank you, Aren."

He grabbed her left wrist and held up her gloved hand. "Is there some reason why you have this so heavily warded I can't take it off?" he asked.

"Yeah, the reason is mind your own business," she said, tugging her hand away with all the force she could muster.

"It's my business if whatever you're hiding is going to affect my treatment," he said.

"It won't. And that's all I’m saying on the subject."

He made a disgusted face and walked out of the room without another word.

"What time is it?" Seya asked.

"About one in the morning," Vico said. "You've been out for a while."

"What happened?"

"It was probably an assassination attempt by the same guys who tried to kill him before," Vico said.

"She doesn't need to know that!" Jayen objected.

Vico ignored him. "They traced the water to the pond across the park, and found these." He held the bag containing the glass shards out to her.

"Water to cut through the fire, glass to cut everything else. But where did the curse come from?" She tried to call up the curse in her sense to compare it to the sigils, since she could still feel the residue of it in her blood, but Aren had obliterated most of the markers. What remained was merely malicious intent, muted and contained by Aren's healing spellwork, with few distinguishing characteristics.

Vico shrugged. "We haven't heard anything more yet. Whoever it was didn't leave any traces that I could read, but then I was pretty preoccupied with keeping you from dying."

"Thanks, Vico," she said. "But really, did you have to bring me here?"

He shrugged. "I thought you'd be happier here than with the Malthusius healers, and a temple would've had to call the Guard about that curse."

"Technically I will have to as well," Aren said as he returned, carrying a cup of something smelling sharply green and fizzing with healing magic. "The only reason I have not yet is because I didn't want to leave the patient alone before she woke up, and my partner was already gone for the day. When she arrives at the clinic's opening time, I will be calling to inform them of this incident."

"Come on, Aren, she's practically family," Vico said. "No need to bring the law into this."

"I realize you Malthusius are a law unto yourselves," Aren said. "But the rest of us are required to obey Caldona's actual laws."

"The general's laws," Jayen muttered.

"Who makes them doesn't matter, laws are laws for a reason," Aren retorted, turning back to Seya. "Drink this." He handed her the cup. "It will help purify the remains of the curse. I'll be discharging you in the morning. The medicine should start to take effect in about two hours. You will need someone to stay with you at all times while on it, in case the curse rebounds. It'll take three more doses at least, and I'll have to heal the remainder of the damage as the curse abates, so you will need to come by once or twice a day so that I can monitor and maintain the spellwork. I recommend bed rest, lots of fresh fruit and vegetables, six to eight glasses of water a day, no alcohol. I have you down for a three o'clock appointment tomorrow." He leaned forward. "You better show up, and on time."

"Yes, Aren. Thank you, Aren. I don't drink, Aren."

He crossed his arms and stared down at her. "All right. Now, where the hell have you been?"

"There it is," she said. "I didn't think it'd take you this long to ask."

"I’m asking now,” he snapped. “Where have you been for the last ten years? It better be damned good."

I ran off in a fit of angst and ended up in the army with my magic being coerced by the country's most notorious traitor, from whom I am currently on the run, and also from the army, who will almost certainly think I'm still working for him if they learn I'm not dead after all. If it had happened to someone else, she might have considered it a good story, but somehow she doubted that was what he meant. "Around," she said.

"Around," Aren said. He turned to Vico.

Vico shrugged. "She hasn’t told me."

"At this point it'd probably be easier to list the places I haven't been," she said—which was the wrong thing, if the way anger flared in Aren’s aura was any indication.

"Are you making a gods damned joke out of this?" he hissed. "Do you realize what you did to my parents, disappearing like that? Do you know how much my mother blamed herself when you never came back? They were devastated!"

"I'm sorry," she said, staring down at the rumpled sheets, suddenly weary beyond the mere physical. "I really am."

"I'm not the one you need to apologize to," he said. He turned to Vico. "I'll be sleeping in my office if she needs anything." The door slammed behind him.

"Well then," she said.

"He's not wrong," Vico said, not quite looking at her. There was a mild sense of reproach, which he did try to keep back, not quickly enough.

"Do you really think I haven't had ample time to reflect on the stupid, life-destroying mistake I made when I was a teenager?" she asked.

"I'm just saying," he said mildly.

"Ugh." She put on the shirt Aren had left for her. Her injured shoulder was so stiff Vico had to help her pull the sleeves over her arms. It was one of the loose, smock-like things usually worn by healers' assistants, printed with an annoyingly cheerful floral pattern, tying closed across the front at the shoulder and hip for ease of removal. Vico did up the ties for her. "I don't suppose I could convince you to bring me my own clothes while I'm waiting for Aren to kick me out."

"I'm not going anywhere," Vico said. "I am definitely not fetching you those awful rags you've been hauling around gods know where."

"Look, it's not like they're going to come back for me. Jayen was their target. Shouldn't he be under lock and key at the Malthusius compound?"

"I'm not hiding at home just because some assholes want me dead," Jayen said.

"At the very least you should get someone to fix your face."

He looked at her incredulously. "Halcyon was a little busy to worry about some superficial bruises."

"He was busy all night?"

"Oh for—just shut the hell up. What is wrong with you anyway? You don't stop in the middle of a duel to save your opponent's life! What made you think I needed your help anyway? I can take care of myself!"

"Don't mind him," Vico said. "He's just angry because he lost."

"How was it anything but a draw?" she asked.

Vico pointed at the bruises on Jayen's face. "You did this when you knocked him out of the way, ergo, you won."

Jayen brushed his hand away. "Like hell! She went over the line, and that definitely counted as physical violence! If we hadn't been interrupted, I'd have won!"

"If you're going to be that childish about it you can just have a rematch when she's better."

"Don't think we won't!"

"Sure," she said, lying back down. The pain wards were starting to make her lightheaded, but she was not so out of it that she missed how under Jayen’s blustering, he really was worried and upset on her behalf, nor the spark of the nascent bond flickering between them. She wasn’t prepared to deal with that, even if Jayen had helped save her life, but the weight of the pain wards against her own sense wouldn't let her withdraw completely. "You guys really don't need to stay if there's something else you need to do."

"You hush," said Vico, picking up an old back issue of Modern Casting from the table and flipping through it. Jayen huffed, flinging himself back into the chair, glaring out the window. Seya shut her eyes. Somehow, even Jayen's prickly presence was sort of comforting. I really am out of it, she decided, and sank into the lulling energy of the pain wards, finally drifting back to sleep.


	12. Familial Dynamics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Parental violence against an adult child, lots more blood, two people being unbearably awkward at one another

**Familial Dynamics**

Aren woke her at seven for one last examination. "You'll live," he said curtly. "If you can manage to remember what I told you."

"I think I've been through this enough to know what to do," she said. "What about the fee?" She had been dreading that discussion.

"Vico took care of it already."

"Vico!"

"What?" he asked as he helped her up. "Like you could have paid him?"

She looked up at the ceiling and sighed, because it was true. "How much was it?"

"Don't worry about it."

Aren looked to Jayen. "Are you sure you won't let me take care of your face before you go? It'll only take a couple minutes."

"Like I'd let one of you Halcyons get your magic all over me," Jayen said.

Aren's lips twisted in irritation. "I've half a mind to charge extra for putting up with his attitude," he said.

"Well, you can bill me, I put my address on the admittance form," Vico said.

"Here's an extra ward in case the ones you have now start wearing off. If the curse starts rebounding bring her back immediately. If it happens while we're closed, just bring her to Halcyon. Do I need to remind you not to leave her alone?"

"Nope," Vico said, clapping him lightly on the shoulder. "I'll look after her properly."

"I don't need looking after," she said, but the impact of the words was somewhat lessened by the fact that she had to lean on Vico's arm to stay on her feet. It was partly the weakness, and partly the sedating influence of the pain wards. She was starting to feel the heady, drugged sensation that marked longer exposure to their effects.

"I'll get the car," Jayen said, picking up the keys from the table.

"Oh, no, I'm definitely driving," Vico said. "You can hold this." He pushed Seya onto Jayen's arm and snatched the keys away.

Jayen watch him dart out before either of them could object, indignation on his face. "Is he playing us?"

"Like a damn piano," she said.

Jayen swore under his breath. "You know what, dueling was his idea too. I'm going to give him a piece of my mind when he gets back." Seya gave him a pitying look. Clearly he was still a little stupid about anything that had to do with feelings.

She thought he would dump her off on Aren, but he just slipped her right arm over his shoulder, his face set in resignation. The bond sparked between them again, and he made a disgusted sound in his throat. "That's so stupid, like I'd want a bond with you," he muttered, though his ire felt halfhearted.

"It's a fairly natural occurrence between people who have saved each other's lives," Aren said.

"That's why I'm saying it's stupid," Jayen said. "We hate each other."

"I don't hate you," she said. She probably wouldn't have said it if standing up under the power of two of the strongest pain wards hadn't knocked her for a loop. He didn't hate her anymore either. His feelings had always been—complicated.

Like hers.

"Then what was all that shit about just tolerating me for Vico's sake then?"

"He's very upset at you. Also, you were being an ass."

Jayen put his arm around her waist and directed her to the door. "I'm sick of dealing with you already." Despite his terse words, he was moving very carefully to avoid jostling her injured shoulder.

"Thanks, Jayen."

He glared down at her. "I'll never thank you as long as I live."

They were met in the hall by a curvy, petite woman whose light, olive-toned skin wasn't quite the right shade to be Caldi. Her short, golden-brown hair framed a pert, pleasant face, and she had the sort of aggressively practical spiritual presence Seya associated with healers. She was pulling on a fresh healer's smock. "Aren, Zan will be here soon with those herbs from the school that you asked for," she said. Her eyes went to Seya and Jayen. "Is this your patient from last night? I was a little worried when you said you weren't coming home, but she looks all right." She had a slight accent, not quite Talese but similar.

"Kaya, this is Seya, one of Halcyon's former students," he said. "Seya, this is my partner, Kaya Alciere."

"Nice to meet you," Seya said. "I can't really shake your hand, though. Sorry." Her left arm was useless, but she wasn’t really sorry. Hanging onto Jayen was a full sensory overload, his strong, unrestrained personality made only marginally more bearable by the muting effects of the pain wards. She was going to be very happy to lie down on Vico's couch, well out of the range of other people's hands and presences.

"It's quite all right!" Kaya said, offering her a sweet smile. Seya tried to picture her and Aren working together. There was a bond there as well—not a natural bond, something through Halcyon if she was reading it right. A significant relationship then. She was curious in spite of herself, as Aren had identified as asexual and aromantic since the were quite young.

"By all means, let's have a pleasant conversation in the hall while I'm holding her up," Jayen said.

"You'll have to excuse him," Seya said, as Kaya eyed him rather askance. "No one ever taught him any manners."

"Clearly," Kaya said.

Jayen swore under his breath again. "Can we just leave already? I have to get to the compound and deal with all this. And talk to my father."

"You didn't tell him already?" Seya said. "I can't see that causing a mountain of problems or anything."

"I was a little busy."

"Doing what? Sleeping?"

"Oh, I don't know, establishing a perimeter, maintaining defensive wards in case we were attacked again. Keeping an eye on Vico while he recharged after dumping all his energy into you to keep you alive. Resting after keeping you from dying. Dumb shit, really."

"Stop shouting in my clinic," Aren said. He pushed open the door to the waiting room and held it open for them.

"You'll know when I start shouting, Halcyon. And we're leaving, aren't we?" Jayen said testily.

"Do you need some help?" Kaya asked, hovering behind them as they maneuvered through the narrow doorway.

"I'm fine—" Seya's voice trailed off as Zan stepped into the waiting room with a bucket of freshly cut herbs over each arm, frowning through the open front door over his shoulder.

"Why are there strange wards set up around the yard?" he asked Aren, turning to his cousin. His eyes settled on Seya, and he trailed off as well, blinking at her in astonishment.

"Gods above and below," she muttered, turning her eyes up to the ceiling. "This day just keeps getting better."

"Seya! What happened?" He took in Jayen supporting her and tensed visibly, glancing to Aren. "Is everything all right here?"

Jayen bristled at that. "Mind your own gods damned business, Montreides," he snapped.

"Everything's fine," Aren said. "They were just leaving."

"Yes, hopefully sometime today, even," Seya said. "So nice to see you again, Master Montreides, I'm lovely, thanks, never better."

He looked away, his brow furrowed at her sarcastic tone. "She's the patient you were talking about on the phone last night? The one who was almost cursed to death?" he asked, glancing at Jayen again.

"Yes, and I see you two have already met," Aren said. "I'm sure that's an interesting story."

"She came by the school looking for your mother," Zan said. "Where would you like these plants?"

"Apothecary room, thank you," Aren asked. "Kaya, can you go ahead and start the next batch of the number seventeen curse-negator? I'm going to need a week's worth for Seya."

"Of course, dear," she said, taking one of the buckets. Zan held the door for her and followed her down the hallway with the other one.

"Would you like a sling for your arm?" Aren asked.

"No, it'll be fine. Let's just go already." With her ward-fogged brain, Seya didn't think she could handle another conversation with Zan. His obvious concern set her nerves on edge. She leaned into Jayen's side, pushing his solid frame toward the door with limited success.

"Where the hell is Vico?" Jayen said.

Taking his time so they would be forced to keep interacting is what Seya guessed. "Where did you park?" she asked. There were no vehicles in front of the clinic, and none on the roadside either.

"Micah moved the car down a few streets after we brought you here yesterday. Didn't want anyone to find us before I had a chance to explain to dad—Oh, there he is."

Vico pulled around the corner and parked on the side of the road in front of the clinic. He’d only just gotten out of the car when two Malthusius fleet vehicles screeched to a halt in the middle of the road, blocking Jayen's car in. Jayen swore quietly to himself as his father stepped out of one of them.

"We should go outside," Seya said. There was no way to avoid dealing with Corin now, but she could at least keep the trouble out of Aren's clinic.

"It's fine, I'll talk to him," said Jayen. He handed her over to Aren and went outside. Seya dragged Aren along after him more out of will than anything, since she could barely stay upright. Aren stopped her just outside the doorway, because it was clear by then that Corin had no interest in a civil discussion. He stormed up the walk, emanating raw fury, slowing only briefly to take in his son's bruised face. He ignored Jayen's attempted explanation before turning to her with a level of anger that probably would have frightened her if she hadn't been so bewildered by it. He grabbed her by the front of her shirt and slammed her backwards into the doorjamb. "What the hell did you do to my son?" he thundered.

Her answer was mostly incoherent swearing; he had slammed her back hard enough to knock off one of the pain wards. The bruising force against the freshly healed curse injury rocketed her straight into whiteout levels of agony.

"I'll thank you to keep your hands off of my patient!" Aren exclaimed in outrage, trying to pull his hand off her. He got shoved backwards through the clinic door for his trouble. For all his confrontational verbal habits, Aren was not and had never been a fighter, so when he got up, he went straight for the phone at the reception desk to call the guard, tracing the sigil onto the dial pad with shaking fingers.

"Gods damn it, dad, just listen to me!" Jayen barked.

Vico, who had been detained by the men accompanying Corin, broke away from them in a panic, hurtled up the walk. "Master Malthusius, this isn’t what you think, I swear—"

The grip on her relaxed just a bit as Corin turned to Vico, who found himself restrained again, by one of Corin's bodyguards this time. He struggled against the woman’s hold, face gone deathly pale at the pain coming unfiltered through their fragile new bond. Corin loomed over him, aura raging without restraint. "And you! I was willing to overlook your deceit yesterday morning because you've managed to be useful to me despite your tarnished blood—I don't know how you've persuaded my son to keep this from me, but if you imagine you'll remain among my bonded after this—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, after what? I didn't—it was just a duel!"

"A duel that resulted in the guard being called to Kesendra Park! Imagine my surprise when I learned two of my own bonded were also out there, looking around without my knowledge, after a lethal attack on my heir!"

Vico winced. "Yes, but Jayen was coming to let you know—"

Seya lost the thread of the argument when Jayen joined the shouting too. She was close to passing out. There was too much anger and alarm swarming about in her sense; between that and the pain, it was the magical equivalent of being battered by a bag of hammers. Corin lost his grip on her at some point, and she would have fallen over if someone hadn't caught her by the arm. Zan—she recognized that calm, steady aura immediately despite everything. Of course it was Zan. She couldn’t even feel properly indignant about the fact that she incapable of doing anything but sag against his shoulder, there was only pain. He lowered her to a kneeling position as her legs went out from under her. It was suddenly very quiet in her sense, the strength his presence drowning out everything else, and that was a small relief. She let her face rest against his arm and tried to breathe through the pain.

❀

The ward Corin had knocked off of Seya’s back was lay at Zan's feet. He picked it up to put it back on her, and found it had been stepped on, the lines smudged, rendering it useless. He could read how strong it had been, and a glint of anger lit in his eyes. "Is there a problem here, gentlemen?" he asked. His tone was firmly and implacably civil, but there was an edge to it that was sharp enough to cut through the yelling.

Corin rounded on him. "Montreides, what a surprise." His fury vanished into cold, perfectly shielded calm, though he took no such trouble to hide his suspicion. "I should have expected this. The Halcyons were always too happy to interfere in my business. If I find you were involved in this attempt on my son's life, I'll see your sad little school shut down, and you run out of town like the cowardly excuse for a bondmaster you are."

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you are talking about," Zan said. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave, Master Malthusius."

Corin scoffed, turning away. "Jayen, get in the car, now. You are going to a proper healer right this minute." Another of his men had come to join him at Zan's appearance; to him, Corin said, "Bring Rhaimes. And her. This will need to be settled personally."

"I think not," Zan said, asserting his shields and taking a protective stance over Seya. The Malthusius people hesitated. He was a bondmaster, after all, even if the Halcyon bonds held only a small percentage of Starling's magical interests. If they laid hands on him, it could easily become an incident. Zan's eyes flicked over them, decided he had no cause for concern just yet, before turning back to Seya. "We should probably go back inside. Can you stand?"

She didn’t answer. He looped an arm around her waist to help her up.

Corin grabbed Jayen by the arm and propelled him toward the cars. Jayen smacked his hand off. "Damn it, Dad, I don't need a healer!"

"Your face—"

"It's just bruised, I tried to tell you, we were in the middle of a duel, and someone attacked us in the circle, I got hit in the face while she was saving me!"

Corin glanced at her in disbelief. "Saving you?"

"Yes, damn it, and she got cursed half to death for her trouble, so just—stop, okay?"

An uncomfortable silence fell over the group. "I apologize. I can see I was…misinformed as to the nature of this incident," Corin said stiffly.

"Maybe if you had just listened to me instead of flying off the handle!" Jayen snapped.

Seya gave a faint moan against Zan's arm. "Seya, are you okay?" he asked, putting his hand under her arm, pulling it away almost immediately at her pained gasp. His fingers were covered in blood and stinging with an unpleasantly familiar sensation—she’d been cursed again. "Aren, it’s rebounding!"

Aren dropped the phone and came running out of the clinic at that, shouting for Kaya. Corin stared in shock at the red stain blossoming across the back of Seya’s shirt as they pulled her to her feet. There was a brief tussle as the redheaded man who had come to find her at Halcyon broke free from the Malthusius restraining him and came hurtling up the steps after them as they half-carried Seya into the clinic, but he stopped when Aren looked back and said, sharply, "No. You're too uncentered. Stay here and get yourself back together before you start affecting her."

Kaya hurried out with a new pain ward. Seya went limp in relief the second it was applied, and they hustled her back into the exam room.

"Help me put her on the table, please," Aren said. He sliced the blood-soaked shirt off. "Again," he growled, swearing under his breath. Zan blanched at the extent of her injuries, but Aren appeared relieved. "That doesn't look as bad as I feared," he said. Zan gave him an incredulous look; if this wasn’t as bad as he’d feared, how bad had it been originally? "The medicine was already starting to take effect, I think."

"Speak for yourself," Seya muttered.

"The patient shouldn't waste energy talking," Aren said. Kaya bustle into the room with a tray of antiseptic, bandages, and curse wards. "Zan, we're going to need you to hold her down while we work, please, this will be trickier with her awake."

"Wouldn't it be better if you sedated her?" he asked, remembering her reaction to being touched the day before.

"No, if she's awake, she can tell me how far it's spread out from the point of rebound." Aren said. "It's fine, just put your hands here." The way she flinched when he put his hands on her said it was far from fine, but Aren had already begun to pull out the rebounded curse, and he could not release her without interrupting the treatment.

She might not be able to feel the pain, but her body couldn't help reacting to the curse's attempts to escape the bounds of Aren’s healing spellwork. She was surprisingly strong, her slim frame proving tough and wiry. Not strong enough to make his task difficult, but more than he had expected. It required physical stamina to use strong magic, and hers was strong. With her defenses down, he could tell, despite it being somewhat muted by two high level pain wards, the efforts of two experienced healers, and the vicious energy of the curse. She was projecting, too—anger, frustration, fear. Zan averted his eyes, ignoring his curiosity and reformulating his shields to shut everything out. He didn't enjoy feeling like a voyeur.

❀

Kaya mopped the blood off her back and applied the antiseptic, healing the reopened cuts in Aren's wake as he neutralized the worst of the curse. By the time they were finished Seya was shaking with exhaustion and infuriated at being reduced to such a position. She put her face down and swore into the padded table top. She was dimly aware of the Malthusius group still arguing in the waiting room—mostly Jayen and Corin. Vico was standing outside the door, firmly shielded, though his anxiety flickered on the edge of her sense when he checked the bond connection. He withdrew quickly before the feeling could affect her.

Aren went to get more medicine, grumbling the whole while. Kaya blotted the sweat off her face and neck with a dampened cloth. "I'll bring you some water," she said.

"Sure," Seya muttered, wishing she had the energy to be more graceful about it. "Thanks."

Kaya gave her a gentle, encouraging pat on her uninjured shoulder. Seya reminded herself that it was kindly meant, and that, as a stranger, she couldn't possibly know that was only going to make her more uncomfortable, especially in her weakened state. "Don't worry about it, dear. Zan, will you keep an eye on her for a minute? I'll be right back."

"Of course," he said.

Kaya left. Zan went to wash his hands, dropping his shields as he went, and wincing at the volume of the anger she was still projecting. "I apologize if this counts as being pushy again," he said.

For a moment she thought he was being sarcastic, but of course he meant it. "What is wrong with you? You enjoy playing savior that much?" Spurred by mortification, the words came out before she even thought about them. The response caught him off guard, surprise flickering across his features. Seya gave a muffled groan, curling her uninjured arm over her head to hide her face. "No, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"It's quite all right," he said. "I am familiar with the effects of pain wards on impulse control."

That made her angrier, but she kept her mouth shut this time. She wasn't angry at him. It was, she thought somewhat bitterly, impossible to be angry at him, he was practically a saint. He turned his attention back to his hands, scrubbing at the red stains around his nails and mouthing the water purification spells automatically to clear the traces of energy. There was that line between his eyebrows and a troubled downturn to his mouth. It was the same expression he had worn after she had nearly had a panic attack in his kitchen, of someone upset by something they had no power to fix. Seya shut her eyes, not wanting to see it.

Aren came back. "Thanks, Zan. You can go, I think she'll be fine. We'll be keeping her under observation for the day."

"I'll be fine with Vico," Seya objected.

"I'll keep you here all week if I have to," he said crisply. "No arguments."

"She's fine now?" Vico asked from the door, pausing on the threshold and eyeing Zan with a slight wariness before going to stand next to the exam table. He squeezed Seya's hand gently, and that was comforting. She relaxed, very slightly.

"She will be, if she can refrain from pissing off anyone else today. Visiting hours are over, so get out, and take your idiot Malthusius friends with you."

Vico snorted. "None of my Malthusius friends, such as they are, were included in Corin's little outing. Corin's gone, though, and he took his entourage with him, the bastard. Your receptionist arrived while Jayen was explaining what happened. He left some money with her to pay for Seya's treatment."

Seya swore under her breath again. The last thing she wanted was any damn thing at all from Corin Malthusius, no matter how deserved.

"The security guys outside sent the guard away when they got here, so if you want to press charges for trespassing and assault, you'll have to call them back."

Aren scowled at him. "I'm less concerned with the trespassing than the fact that he nearly killed one of his children on Halcyon property."

"Shut up, Aren," Seya said, her anger flaring back up. Zan lifted his head from where he was toweling his hands dry, his face blank with shock.

"I think it's well past time to be denying it after yesterday—"

"Corin Malthusius is not my father. My father died in a street duel, killed by one of his people!"

"Stepfather," Aren said. Vico turned to him with fire in his eyes.

"Aren, this is perhaps not the best time," Kaya said, a warning note in her voice. Aren had the grace to look contrite, though he did not apologize.

Zan cleared his throat, his discomfort palpable in the small room. "I think I will be going, then.”

Aren saw him out, mostly because Kaya shoved him out the door. "I'm sorry," she said. "I don't know what's gotten into him. He should know better than to bring up upsetting subjects in front of a curse victim."

"It's fine," Seya said. She and Aren had always had a contentious friendship. She preferred it that way. Prickly, argumentative people were easier to deal with than nice ones. And on that thought it finally occurred to her that Zan had just faced down the most powerful man in town on her behalf, and instead of thanking him, she had been rude. "I’m the worst person alive, aren't I," she mumbled into the top of the table.

"It's part of your charm," Vico said, squeezing her hand again.

She was brought another shirt and moved back to the patient room, on her own two feet this time, if still supported between Vico and Kaya. She found herself settled face down on the same bed she had been occupying an hour before.

"Please rest now. Shall I bring you a sedative?" Kaya asked.

"No, I'm fine."

"Are you really fine?" Vico asked after Kaya left again.

"Of course not, it's not even nine and this day is already an utter fiasco. Are you going to be okay?"

"I'm fine. Corin settled down after we finally got to explain everything. I'm not revoked, and he won't object to you staying with me either. He went off to look into the assassination attempt himself. I'm supposed to go meet them at the security offices so I can be debriefed properly, and then I have a couple of things to take care of for work, but I'll come get you later."

"That's fine. I'm not planning on moving any time soon." The lethargy induced by the pain wards was overtaking her burst of emotion; just stringing the words together sapped the rest of it.

"Good." He paused, and looked away before saying, reluctantly, "He still wants to see you. Corin."

"Like hell," she muttered.

Vico shrugged, but she could feel his own anger at the edge of her consciousness. It was darkly comforting. "It's your call. I can't really blame you. I've no idea what set him off like that. He was always so obsessed with getting you to join the clan. I always thought that was part of the reason he’d agreed to allow me in, to be honest."

Seya was more than a little baffled by that too. He couldn't possibly know—but that was a dangerous line of thought, which she quashed before she triggered another panic. Aren would probably kill her himself if had to put her shoulder back together again.

"Would you rather I stayed?" Vico asked softly. "I'll stay if you need me."

"No, I'm okay. Go to work."

"If you're sure," he said with a sigh. "I'll be back as soon as I can. I left the dial sigil for my work with Aren, so have him call me if you need anything. Anything at all."

"Thanks, Vico."

"Don't worry about it," he said.

"I'll worry if I feel like it. Be careful."

"I'm good. I'll be at the compound all day."

"That’s not a phrase that fills me with confidence. I mean it, Vico. Be careful."

He squeezed her hand. "Yeah, you too. Don't go haring off again, all right?"

"How can I, like this? It's almost like you planned it this way." She narrowed her eyes at him. "You didn't, did you?"

"Hey, that's harsh, how could I do that to my only family?" he said, resting his hand on her uninjured shoulder for a moment. "I've got to go now, Jayen is pinging me. We're leaving a security detail outside, and the wards they put up are still in place, so don't worry and just rest, okay?"

Too exhausted to speak further, she sent her gratitude through the bond. His response left a comfortable warmth on the edge of her sense long after he was gone.


	13. Memories and Machinations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I apologize for falling off the face of the earth. Occasionally my ADHD intersects with my depressive episodes and I end up Unable to do anything except scroll endlessly on Pinterest and obsessively online shop for things I can’t even afford to buy right now. I think I feel better now, though it might be time to see about having my meds upped again. I will post Chapter 14 a little later this week.
> 
> I don’t think there’s anything that needs warning in this chapter, but do let me know if I’m wrong!

Jayen's car was still parked on the curb, Jayen himself across the street, conferring with the security detail, the man Zan recognized as his second hovering nearby on high alert. Zan paused to watch the Malthusius heir cross to his own car. He gave Zan a brisk look up and down, and Zan could feel the dismissal in his assessment as he turned to Aren instead. "We're leaving a detail here in case of further trouble. I gave my card to your receptionist."

"Yeah, thanks for cleaning up the mess you brought to me," Aren said, rolling his eyes. Jayen gave a disgusted huff and climbed into his car, slamming the door shut.

"Are you going to be okay?" Aren asked, turning back to Zan.

"I'm fine," he said automatically, looking up from his hands. A faint sensation of disruption still clung to them. "I have to go, I'm going to be late for my first class."

It occurred to Zan, as he left the clinic, that he had left Adiel alone for an errand that he'd expected to take twenty minutes at the most. Adiel was not keyed to the wards, and would have no way to close them if the Malthusius had chosen to take his lack of cooperation as a challenge. He didn't think it likely, but remembering McKellen's behavior the day before gave him an incentive to hurry back.

He was nearly ten minutes late, arriving to find Adiel wrangling four of the five children from the class around the kitchen table, distracting them with juice and crackers. The boy gave a huge sigh of relief when Zan appeared in the doorway, slightly out of breath. "I was starting to worry," he said. "Where have you been?"

"I'm so sorry, Adiel, there was an emergency at the clinic while I was there. I was pressed into service."

"Emergency?" Adiel asked.

Zan did not elaborate. He was far more unsettled by the incident than he wanted to admit. In the moment, necessity had drowned it out, but now, in the aftermath, and stirred by the adrenaline of his rush back to Halcyon, the feeling of resistance and pain and blood and disordered magic under his hands had brought up memories that he would have preferred to stay buried. It must have shown, because Adiel was still staring at him, concerned.

Zan composed himself as best he could, glancing over the children. Lee and Keira, Terra and Antony. "Etienne isn't here?" he asked.

"His mother called a few minutes after you left; he's not coming today. A cold."

"Ah, that's unfortunate. Adiel, why don't you take the children up to the library and help them with their writing practice for a few minutes. I've already got the charms for today's lesson laid out."

"Where are you going?" Adiel asked.

"I have something I need to do." Zan went out the door, through the kitchen garden, taking the path through the back yard to the open area where Halcyon’s elemental spirits were seated. Halcyon's bond was held in earth and water, so the seat was arranged as a pattern of stone tiles and patches of low growing moss and creeping ivy around the old well in the very center of the property. The elemental spirits that inhabited the stone and soil were old, as old as the city and the clan that had founded it hundreds of years before. They were calm and sedate, reaching out to him to offer acknowledgment as he went through. In contrast, the water elemental the well had borne was comparatively young for an elemental spirit, and far more excitable, its presence lapping at him eagerly and growing upset at the rare emotional imbalance he still wore. He spent a few minutes soothing it, until it retreated back into the well, then he went to the back corner of the property. Amid ancient trees and lush, shaded undergrowth lay the meditation paths. The graveled pathways twisted through the trunks of the trees and around carefully situated stones of various types, etched with sigils and charms; and dangling from branches were glass and wood discs, bright snatches of color flashing in the dappled light. The effect appeared whimsical and unpredictable, but the layout was carefully orchestrated to draw Halcyon's elemental energy through the settling resonance of the trees and from there to direct it throughout the grounds into clean, unseated lines that were open and easy to access.

There wasn’t time to walk the paths. Zan sat on the bench near the entrance, taking a few minutes to simply feel the place that was his home now, to clear the dissonance of the unsettling encounter and reestablish his center. It was a good way to remind himself of how far away he was from Castiverre, and the tragedies and the loneliness he'd left there. Here, in the comforting resonance of Halcyon, he could think of those things without getting lost in them again, and when he rose a few minutes later and returned to the library, the troubling memories had been once again laid to rest.

"Thank you, Adiel," he said as he sat down at the table with the students and looked over their work. "And thank you, sweetheart," he said, smiling at the page Keira held up to him. Her copies of the basic charms were interspersed with scribbles of flowers and small creatures of indeterminate species. In truth, she was a little too young for this class. Children of her age with awakened spiritual magic were rare, and required careful attention. Zan had taken her on as a favor to her parents, who were friends of his, and also because he knew what it was like to grow up in an environment that did not show the proper care for a precocious spiritualist. So while the older students practiced basic written magic, Keira received special lessons on shielding and reading spiritual energy, couched in careful terms for her age. Zan considered watching the sweet, timid little girl blossom under his tutelage the best antidote to the bitter memories of his own childhood.

❀

"What the hell is wrong with your father?"

Vico managed to wait until they were out of the active range of his newly rekindled bond with Seya before he couldn't keep the anger to himself anymore. It was not a great distance; they were barely halfway across town. He supposed, darkly, that it was a bit much to assume that he and Seya could simply go back to the level of closeness they'd had before. It was a minor miracle that any traces of their bond had survived the time and distance she had put between them. Remembering that did nothing to help the black feeling trying to force its way out of his chest.

Jayen did not answer, though his bewilderment was clear in his aura even as he stared steadfastly through the windshield.

Vico swore, quietly, viciously. "If he wasn't your father," he began, his voice rough with fury, and paused, his jaw taut as he struggled to contain himself, before going on with dangerous, icy calm, "If he were anyone else, I'd have already dragged him into the circle."

"Don't say that," Jayen said, glancing at him warily from the corner of his eye. "He'd revoke you just for the challenge. Look, are you going to be okay? You know he's going to be at the debriefing."

"I'm fine," Vico said shortly. "Sorry." He was not sorry at all, but as much as he hated Corin Malthusius, the man was still Jayen's father. It would do him no good to pull at the seam that ran down the middle of Jayen's loyalties. Vico had spent years tiptoeing around the inevitability of that divide, until he couldn't stand it anymore, until it had undone him. He turned his gaze back out the window, his breathing deliberately even as he tried to put himself back to center.

"I know how he is," Jayen said. "I wonder what she did to make him believe—"

"What could she possibly have done?" Vico said, glaring at him. "She was gone." His brow furrowed as he wondered suddenly whether Corin had known where she was the whole time. He had the resources. It had been in the middle of the war, but that didn't mean much. Corin was perfectly capable of that sort of single-mindedness.

Vico swallowed the hard, nauseous knot of that idea down. "Let's not talk about this now." He couldn't afford to get angry and do something as stupid as challenging his bondmaster to a duel over this, no matter how badly he wanted to, no matter how justified it would be. It was suicidal, in both the literal and figurative sense. He was not considering it, he told himself. He wasn't.

He needed something else to think about. Shifting in his seat, he checked the position of the security detail that was following them. "We really ought to have one of them in the car with us," he said, frowning.

"You're here, it's fine," Jayen said.

"I'm not certain I'd be a lot of good just now," Vico said. Losing his temper had done nothing to help the residual weariness of giving all his energy to Seya. And she had drained most of his dueling chips, too. It made him feel like a sitting duck.

"It'll be fine," Jayen said. "Don't you start too. I get enough of this from Dad and Micah."

Vico put his hand over his eyes. "Jayen, I really need you to take this threat seriously. If they got your aural signature somehow—"

"We still don't know if it was me or Seya they were after," Jayen said. "She said it was me, but she's been gone a long time. We don't know what she's been into. She could be covering for something."

"She wouldn't—" Vico paused, his frown deepening. He did not believe for a moment that she would deliberately involve herself in something illicit, but whether she had or not, trouble had always followed her because of her magic. He remembered the shadow on her aura—she was hiding something. But asking her about that would have to wait, at least until she was able to answer questions without risk of another rebound.

Jayen, however, was right there, and perfectly capable of answering questions. "You were knifed in the street three weeks ago," Vico pointed out. "It could have happened then."

"We recovered the weapon," Jayen said. "I told you I'd get you the report."

"And I want to read it, but tell me what happened anyway."

"You could have asked me before, you know," Jayen said, tossing him a dark look. "Are you only asking now because Seya is involved?"

"No," Vico said. "Just tell me already."

Jayen huffed under his breath. "It wasn’t some big, dramatic thing. I was just walking to Dacie's to meet Micah and Arie, and some guy darted out of the space between two cars parked on the street and tried to stab me. He only managed a shallow cut before I blasted him. He dropped the knife, dove into one of the cars, drove away before I could do anything else. Unmarked car, well-warded, we weren't able to trace it. That's it. It wasn't that big a deal."

If it had happened to one of his crew, Jayen wouldn't have been so blasé about it. "He dropped the knife? Did they check to make sure it was the same one?"

"What?" Jayen stared at him.

It was clear he had not considered the idea at all, that no one had. "Did they check the blood to make sure it was yours? No, they didn't, did they. They just burned it," Vico said. It was standard procedure. "It doesn't make sense for anyone to attack you like that. One man, a knife, right in the middle of Malthusius territory? No. That's a crime of passion, he wouldn't have bolted like that, like he expected to get away so clean. And if they'd been serious, there would have been at least two of them, and they would have tried to disable your defenses first. You are the highest ranked duelist in the county. Behind your mother, anyway."

Jayen braked the car at a stop sign. "That's—"

"That's how I would have done it," Vico said. "Stick the knife in you, drop a decoy while getting the hell out."

There was a silence. The road was clear, but Jayen didn't turn yet. "Sometimes the way your mind works scares me," he said, finally. The security car behind them honked. Jayen turned onto the road to the Malthusius compound. After a long moment, he said, more cautiously, "This is why I keep telling you to come back to the security division. No one else would have thought of something like that."

"I'm not coming back to security," Vico said. "But since I'm already involved, there's no harm in helping."

Jayen’s jaw set. "You are only doing this for Seya," he said. They came to the gate, and were waved in.

"I'm doing this because I don't want to see anyone else I care about get struck down and almost killed," Vico said.

Jayen parked the car and looked at him again. "You—"

"And don't pretend like you aren't worried about her yourself," Vico went on, ruthlessly forestalling the question he knew Jayen would ask. "I know why you didn't leave last night."

Jayen looked away. "I wasn't—it just happened. What was I supposed to do, let her die? I never hated her that much."

"I know that," Vico said, rolling his eyes. He opened the car door, got out. "She does that to people. If it bothers you that much, just let it fade out naturally. Circumstances and compatibility aside, you can't keep a bond with someone if you don't want it." Privately he thought a natural bond would do Jayen a world of good, make him pay more attention to his spiritual magic, open his perspective up to something outside the clan for once. Plus, if it was with Seya, they might even end up getting along for real, and that would be another tie to keep her in Starling. He didn't think she could have too many of those.

She’d already proven one was not enough.

That was a bitter thought. Vico ran his fingers through his hair absently, trying to plot his next course of action. She was going to be stuck with him for at least a week now, according to Aren. That was plenty of time. Keeping involved with the investigation would make opportunities to throw the two of them together, too.

Jayen got out of the car, leaning on the roof of the vehicle and rubbing at his eyes.

"What is it?" Vico asked.

"Nothing. I think I'm still a little drained."

"You need to get checked out by a healer. You should have let Aren do it."

"Don't you start," Jayen said.

"You need to be careful! Stop wandering around by yourself. Let Micah make you a proper bodyguard rotation. And make sure you vet them all through the bond beforehand. It's not outside the range of possibility that this was an inside job."

Jayen turned a glare at him over the top of the car, outraged. "Our bonded wouldn't do that!"

"You have enemies. On the high tier, even."

"They aren't enemies. Rivals, maybe. Our bond is stronger than that. They just want what's best for the clan. You're just biased against things because of your circumstances."

Vico sighed and let the matter drop. Micah might listen to him. Hopefully he'd have more pull with Jayen on the issue.

He followed Jayen up to his office. Through the open door, they could see that Corin was already there, sitting in Jayen's chair, going over the preliminary report Jayen's crew had put together. Jayen caught Vico's arm before he opened the door. "Don't tell him about this bond thing," he said under his breath.

"Why not?" Vico could think of at least half a dozen reasons to keep it quiet, but he was curious as to why Jayen, who was straightforward to a fault, would want to hide it.

"Just—don't, okay? Until we know why he went off like that."

Politics, then, Vico thought. He was learning.

The debriefing went fairly smoothly, as long as Vico ignored the scowls and muttered comments he got from the security personnel who came through the office while it was going on. And the fact that Corin was present. Thankfully, Addison was not which he counted a small favor from whatever fate was smiling vaguely in his direction. Micah, Rena, and Hanna were also there. Vico had already read the first report at the clinic, but he listened anyway while Micah and Rena went over the case out loud, picking out details they had missed before. There was nothing that struck him as significant.

He told his part of the story with a little judicious editing, leaving out the fact that he had suggested the duel, and the bond Jayen had established with Seya. His own bond he did not bother to hide, since his bond-sibling relationship with Seya was a frankly notorious fact, and would probably be assumed anyway. He kept a close eye on Corin when he spoke about it, gauging his reaction. There wasn't much of one—a slight tightening around his eyes and mouth, which could have signified anything.

Hanna impressed a recording of the proceedings into a memory charm. A faint, reddish spark glowed in the quartz disc where the information was set into it, refracting off the patterns of tiny, complex sigils carved into its surface.. Jayen dropped the charm into his desk drawer with the rest of the traces and reports and locked it.

"Now you will go to the healers' offices," Corin said.

"That can wait," Jayen said. "It's just some bruising, I'm not going to die of it before I get this all settled."

"Your eyes are bothering, you aren't they?" Vico said.

Jayen scowled at him. Corin regarded him with a measured gaze before turning back to his son. "Go," he said, and added a mild rebuke to the order through the clan bond. Jayen left, muttering a comment under his breath about ginger busybodies as he brushed past Vico.

Corin swung a dark look around the room. Micah and Rena left. Hanna remained at her small corner desk, tensing in expectation of confrontation. Vico stayed where he was, standing by the door Micah had closed on his way out. Corin stood, his face cold, his aura shuttered. "I was given to understand that she will require constant supervision during her recovery," he said.

If he felt any remorse for having caused her to rebound, he wasn't showing it. Vico crossed his arms, dropping his gaze to try and hide the anger he knew he wasn't containing nearly so well. He unclenched his jaw and said, evenly, "For at least three days, according to Healers Halcyon and Alciere. I've already agreed to put her up until her treatment is done."

Corin said nothing for a long moment. Then: "I give you leave to take the next three days off for the purpose, and a bonus to cover the trouble." His voice was taut with restraint. "If she requires more time, I expect to be notified promptly."

Vico lifted his eyes, surprise oversetting his anger for a moment. He'd half expected to have to finagle for it. "I would like that in writing," he said.

Corin flicked his gaze to Hanna. "Write it up and bring it to my secretary to be signed," he said, getting to his feet. Vico stood aside as he went out, and waited a moment for Corin to get down the hall.

Hanna looked up at him curiously. "It's been a while since I saw you in here," she ventured.

"Yeah, it's downright nostalgic, isn't it," he said, tossing her a tight smile as he glanced around the familiar walls of the security offices. Truthfully, he did miss working there, and having a sense of camaraderie with his coworkers. But that camaraderie had been largely conditional on his relationship with Jayen, and Vico wasn't desperate enough to go back to that yet.

He was musing on yet as he left.

Micah leaned on the wall outside the door, waiting for him. "What are you doing?" he asked, following Vico down the hall toward the stairs.

"Going to L&R to check on that workup for Bretinne," Vico said.

Micah shot him a hard look. "You know what I mean."

"I have an inkling, but just for the record, why don't you tell me," Vico said.

"If you're just involving yourself in this for Seya then you need to back off. This isn't your department anymore, and we have our own priorities, like making sure our heir doesn't get killed, or shuffled out of the succession."

"I am perfectly capable of caring about both of their welfare equally," Vico said.

"So then we can expect you to abandon her without reason or warning as well?"

Vico gave him a cool look. "Well, she already did that to me once."

"Don't try to pull that smart mouthed shit with me. I'm telling you right now if you hurt him again, there is nothing in this world that'll keep me from dragging your ass into the circle."

"Micah, if you're still pissed at me for ignoring your challenge last year, I'd be more than happy to hand you your ass, but you'll have to wait. I'm all booked up until next week, babysitting my darling idiot bond-sister. Now if you don't mind, I've got to go arrange my work docket to accommodate that."

But Micah would not be put off that easily. "Do you think I haven't seen through this whole thing?" he said. "This being friends thing?"

"He's the one who keeps coming to me, pestering me for any scrap of attention."

"And you're the one who doesn't discourage him at all! Admit it, you're just stringing him along, staying close enough to keep the wolves at bay."

"That's right, I'm just that conniving Sancerre bastard," Vico said sharply. "No way I could possibly care for anything but myself. Really, Micah, why the hell do you think I'm still here? Is it all the opportunities that have been lavished upon me? Or just the fact that I'm so well-loved by everyone around here?"

Micah looked away. "It would help if I knew your intentions.”

"That's funny, I don't remember you asking me about my intentions when I came to you with information about the Hemsley last month. Or any of the times you've come around asking me to nose into things for you."

"Well, you're good at keeping up with shit and getting people to talk. I just don't know if I trust you any farther than that. You can be damn cold when you're twisting things around to suit yourself."

"All I want is to keep the only two people I've ever loved from getting hurt. If that makes me cold, then I guess I can be as cold as I need to make it happen." He stalked down the stairs.

"Past tense?" Micah said.

Vico paused on the landing. "That's none of your damn business. Just make sure he doesn't blow off his bodyguards like last time. And vet whoever you assign. If they do have his signature, it opens up the possibility it's an inside job. I tried to tell him that, but of course he wouldn't listen to me."

Micah's mouth fell open at that, nearly as indignant at the idea as Jayen had been. "You don't seriously think one of us would have—"

"I don't know, but better safe than sorry. I know everything has been going more smoothly for him lately, but Seya is back, and she's already complicating things. A power play wouldn't be out of place." He paused, glancing up and down the stairs—there was no one in hearing range. He laid a dampening over the words anyway. "Was it Addison who told Corin about the duel?"

The question made Micah distinctly uncomfortable. "Don't ask me about things like that. I can't afford to have my loyalty questioned."

Vico's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Did you put someone on me?"

Micah gave a long-suffering sigh. "Jayen refused to consider you a threat. I did try to talk him into it, at least for appearance's sake. But Corin's got two of his personal retinue ready to monitor you when you're outside the compound. I'm only telling you that because I'm not supposed to know, so don't go blowing their cover."

"What about Addison?"

Micah shook his head. "That I don't know. I don't think he would interfere directly."

"Having me watched is considerably less direct than some of the shit he's pulled."

"Yes, but if you and Jayen—" He paused, as if he didn't quite want to say it.

"If Jayen and I what? I thought I was just using him to cover my ass. Make up your mind: conscientious objector or ally. I can't do anything on my own. I don't have any influence, and leverage takes time I don't have to spare just now."

They stared at each other. Finally Micah sighed and nodded. "I'll talk to Jayen about the possibility, but I don't think he'll listen to me either. And I'll make a couple of discreet inquiries about Addison, but I don't know if that'll do any good. You know he doesn't like anyone who allies with Jayen."

Vico did know, entirely too well. "We can talk later. I'm already three hours late for work." Micah gave a sharp nod and they parted ways, Micah back to the security office, and Vico to the nearest exit, heading for the L&R department.

The Lines and Resonances building was separate from the main business offices, set well away in deference to the risks of the high level spellwork that was worked there. Vico wanted to check Lejan's progress on the workup. One of the assistant mages had to go fetch him from the lab, since as a mere working bonded, Vico didn't have clearance to go that far into the building. While he waited, Vico went over to the dispensary to trade in his depleted dueling chips.

Lejan turned up while he was signing for a fresh set. His eyes fell on the depleted set lying in a tray on the counter, and he gave a low whistle. "That must have been quite a duel," he said, picking them up and weighing them in his sense.

"It was," Vico said with a grim smile, "one hell of a duel."

"Are you okay?" Lejan asked, setting the chips down in the tray and looking him over. "I noticed you didn't come back to work yesterday. Did something happen with Jayen after all? You're looking a little washed out."

"How can you tell?" Arie asked, coming out of the storeroom with a new cord of chips, which she handed to Vico through the dispensary window. "These Talese always look a bit peaked." She was born Caldi herself, deep gold-brown skin and glossy dark hair.

"That's cute, Rie," Vico said, pulling the cord over his head and tucking the new chips under his shirt. "You say that shit to Micah?"

Arie snorted. "He's not nearly as pale as you." Then she looked him over more closely. "You didn't get into a fight with Jayen, did you?" she asked. "Micah said you were shouting at each other in the common room yesterday. I know something happened, but he wouldn't talk about it." Her eyes fell to the depleted chips.

"No, I did not, and would not get into a fight with Jayen," Vico said.

"Or duel him?" Lejan asked.

Apparently the news had not circulated yet. "No," Vico said. "Not in a public circle, anyway. I have enough problems without people thinking I'd seriously challenge the heir. I'm fine, just tired. It was…a really long morning. And night. And yesterday afternoon." He rubbed his face. "It's a long story, as a matter of fact, and I'll tell you all about it later, though I'm sure you'll be hearing it long before I have time to. I just came to ask you about that workup."

"I'm working on it now," Lejan said. "Went over to the site for the traces first thing this morning. It should be done by lunch. I'll bring it to you as soon as I'm through."

"Thanks," Vico said, and headed off to work.


	14. Tangled Threads

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I know I keep saying that, but you know. Brain stuff. Ugh. Three chapters today, since I totally flaked out.  
> Content advisory: Bullying in the workplace, discussion of past child abuse, brief mention of alcoholism.

Chapter Fourteen

Hanna caught up to Vico on his way back upstairs, to give him the papers Corin had signed, two copies, one for him, and one for Marten. He read it over: formal permission to be out for no longer than three days, with a dispensation to work shorter hours for the remainder of the week if necessary, in deference to his responsibility to his bond-relation, and the bonus listed was generous enough to offset the cost of Seya's treatment. He folded the pages into a neat square and tucked them into his shirt pocket.

The atmosphere in the office was tense when he arrived. There were only three mediators—four counting Marten, who headed the department, though in the near year Vico had worked there, he'd yet to see Marten do more than hand out orders and swoop in to take credit for things at the last minute. Amelan was the most senior of the group, having been there even longer than Marten, and Rezatte was the newest, having been transferred a few months ago. None of them had any particularly warm feelings toward Vico—Amelan and Marten were of an age to remember the enmity between Malthusius and Sancerre, and Amelan was often openly antagonistic toward him. Marten was a long-time ally of the Addisons. Rezatte was only a couple of years older than Vico, and Malthusius-born, but though her birth could have been considered good according to the clan hierarchy, she had low mage levels, so her status was not high enough to make her a threat. She did not much like him, but she was slightly more tolerable in that she regarded him with distance rather than hostility.

It was Rezatte who was getting thoroughly reamed by Marten, in full view of Amelan and the two secretaries when Vico came in. Apparently an important file regarding the new string of possible affiliations on Hirace Street had gone missing. It was a big deal, a street formerly affiliated with the Talbot, and since the dissolution of that clan, it had been taken over by a number of highly profitable Malachai and Thalassai trade interests, several of whom were being pursued by the Hemsley as well, which added an element of competition to the dealings.

Vico went to his desk, listening with one ear. By Marten's excessive zeal in the dressing down, he suspected it was less a reprimand for a mistake than it was retaliation for the fact that Rezatte had reported him for not paying her the overtime she was owed for the last month. Vico had been on the receiving end of that often enough to feel a little sympathy for her, though her situation was not nearly as fraught as his own. It had become a monthly ritual for Vico to count up the hours he had actually worked and submit them to Addison with a complaint about his pay. The trouble with mediating was that very little of his workday was spent in office, so unless he wanted to drag out a half dozen witnesses every single time he got shorted, it was his word against Marten's. Complaining did nothing to stop this, but it satisfied his sense of irony to have them on file. If they were on file—he wouldn't put it past Addison to have thrown them out instead.

Vico had so far refrained from attempting to settle the issue in a more concrete manner. That's what they all wanted, an excuse to get rid of him, and pointing out flaws in the inner workings of the clan was the best and most obvious way to end up before the high tier so they could browbeat him with whatever paltry bullshit they had been collecting on him for the last year. Or the last eight years, probably. It was true he'd been thinking about leaving for a long time, but his pride rebelled at the idea of being driven out by petty machinations, or letting Jayen step in and fix his problems for him. In truth, Vico could have run circles around Marten, and probably should have been since he had landed himself here. He'd tried playing by the rules at first, in an attempt to prove he could be a proper member of Malthusius despite everything that had happened, but it had quickly become clear he wasn't going to earn any kind of acknowledgment for his efforts. The pointlessness of it had sapped his will to try. It wasn't like working security, where he could use his natural talents toward a purpose, even if that purpose had been mostly trailing along behind Jayen, trying to keep him in one piece and politically viable as heir. Not that Vico cared about the clan succession itself, but he'd felt, given the controversial nature of their relationship, that he ought to do what he could to keep it from completely destroying Jayen's future. He worked better behind the scenes anyway. As aggravating as that fact was, Vico could admit it to himself. He had found himself disappointingly limited in the scope of what he could accomplish on his own.

Plus, working every waking hour was the only thing he had to distract himself from ending up at the bottom of a bottle like his useless excuse for a father, so that's what he'd been doing.

He was done with that. Vico sat down at his desk and pulled out his planner. He flipped through to the current week, his attention on the argument across the room. Rezatte was insisting, still, that she had filed the papers in the appropriate cabinet. The doors to the all the file cabinets hung open, and there was considerable evidence that they'd been gone through with a fine tooth comb, obviously to no avail.

Vico considered the issue. Hirace Street was a diverse enough deal that they had all worked on it at one point or another over the last couple of weeks. He flipped backwards through his planner to the day he had compiled the data for the line adjustments the affiliation would require and touched a fingertip to the tiny sigil marked next to the entry. After his paperwork on the Bretinne case had vanished in just the same way several days before that, Vico had taken to tagging his publicly filed documents so he could tell what had happened to them if such a thing were to occur again. A ghost of a smile played over his lips. What he needed was someone to direct, and he suspected Marten's current tantrum was setting up the perfect candidate for that.

Rezatte returned to her desk, red-faced with anger. Marten turned his attention to Vico. "Mr. Rhaimes. So good of you to join us today. I suppose you have a sterling excuse for flaking out on us yesterday without notice?"

"Family emergency," Vico said, meeting his gaze coolly.

Marten regarded him with distaste. "Yes, I heard that traitor-spawned cast-off had returned. Pity she didn't manage to get herself properly killed yesterday. Would have saved us a lot of trouble in the future."

Vico managed to quell the impulse to get up and drag Marten's smug face down to one of the circles in the training grounds behind the offices. Seya's near death was not yet common knowledge; if Marten already knew about it, that pretty much confirmed his guess that Addison had played a part in spilling the news of the duel, and that he had to have known something of the the results.

Vico returned a flinty smile. "Considering she took that hit protecting the clan's future leader, you might want to rephrase that charming epithet. Wouldn't want Corin hearing you speak like that about his daughter."

To his credit, Marten seemed to realize he had said something imprudent. To cover this, he said, in biting tones, "Corin has better sense than to trust Maeryn caldi's child." The title was spoken with scathing contempt. Of course as Corin's contemporary, he had known Seya's mother.

"That's true. He does have better sense than to trust people who have agendas and loyalties that stray from his," Vico agreed. Marten hesitated a moment, his lips parted in what may have been surprise at the barb, or just because Vico was talking back for once. He usually refrained from overt antagonisms at work, preferring to stay out of the spotlight whenever possible. There wasn't going to be any helping that now, so Vico was determined to take it on his own terms. He got up and strode over to Marten's desk to flip Corin's note at him.

Marten's eyes narrowed as he studied the paper. He tossed it down on his desk. "I'll expect you to keep working from home," he said brusquely. "It's a busy season, and this deal with Bretinne is too important to leave off."

"If I have time," Vico said and went back to his desk. He took his time with the tasks he needed to get done before office hours were over, and arranging things so that he could work from home if he had to. At noon he lingered behind while the rest of the office cleared out for lunch, and he was able to track down the missing file without much trouble. It had been misfiled, in a matter of speaking, in the bin in the storeroom with the backlog of recently completed cases that had already been transferred onto memory charms by the secretaries. Vico suspected that was where his own missing paperwork had ended up, shredded and fed to Malthusius' fire elemental.

He dropped the file onto Rezatte's desk on his way back to his own. Lejan arrived shortly afterward, bringing a thick file, a set of rolled up blueprints in a carrying tube, and a set of memory charms with the spellwork for Bretinne's upcoming auto-magic installations impressed into them.

"Thanks," Vico said, activating one of the charms and studying the complex diagram of spellwork it contained.

"No problem. Let me know if you have any issues before the inspection. The case went to second crew, with Duvall, but I put myself down to be there, since I was the one to do the traces. Just in case."

"I'm sure there won't be any problems, but thank you, that will make things more pleasant for me."

Lejan lingered, a hesitant look on his face. Vico smiled dryly and put the charms and paperwork away in his satchel. "I take it you've heard, then."

"Actually, I've heard about four different versions of the story by now."

"Do tell," Vico said, reaching over and snagging Amelan's chair for him to sit on. "I'm terribly curious as to what's being circulated behind my back."

Lejan sat, still uncertain. "This girl involved, she's the bond sister you told me about. The one you got into so much trouble with when you were a kid. I recognized the name."

Vico nodded. "Seya."

"You never told me she was Corin's daughter."

"He doesn't have any claim on her," Vico said. "And she hates him. If I don't lead with that when I talk about her, it's because she deserves better than to be linked forever to someone who basically ruined her childhood. The bonded are...not encouraged to talk about her. It was a long time ago, and she's a sore point for everyone, really.” He sighed. “Me included."

"Part of that long story?" Lejan said.

"You know it. So, what are they saying now?"

The official story was fairly accurate, and followed closely with what had been revealed during the debriefing: Jayen and his recently returned half-sister were engaged in a duel in a public circle, which was interrupted by an attack. She was injured. The intent of the attack was not yet known, but suspected to be an assassination attempt.

No mention of how she had saved Jayen's life at great risk to her own, or how Corin had assaulted her and caused the curse to rebound, Vico noted sourly. Not that Corin would have allowed that information to become common knowledge. Not without a reason, anyway. Saving it in case the high tier made some objection, probably.

"But there are people who don't buy it," Lejan said. "One of the stories going around says she attacked him, and he cursed her in retaliation."

Vico rolled his eyes. "As if Jayen has enough spiritual magic to curse a houseplant to death. Someone's clumsy attempt to make both of them look bad."

"And then there was someone saying she challenged him deliberately to draw him out in the open."

"Because he wasn’t doing a brilliant job wandering around in the open all on his own, apparently."

There was enough exasperation in Vico's tone to make Lejan smile, but he sobered quickly as he went on. "There was also someone speculating on your involvement, too."

"I'm sure. Was it Tor?"

"One of his friends. You're not hiding up here from the rumors, are you?" Lejan asked.

"Not hiding so much as giving them a chance to get around."

Lejan gave him a puzzled look. "You were there, though."

"No one's going to take my word for it. It's more useful to see what people are willing to believe, or at least what they find beneficial to themselves to spread around.”

"That's—"

"Calculating?"

"Fatalistic," said Lejan. "But yes, that too."

Vico shrugged. "Just playing to my strengths. I did try, you know. To adhere to all those unspoken Malthusius rules. Honor and what have you. Turns out that only works when everyone else is doing it too. I decided if I was only ever going to be that Sancerre bastard, I might as well turn it to my advantage. It was slightly more effective back when I had a large, angry heir to act as a shield, though."

"I know you two had a rough time of it last year, but it doesn't seem like he'd particularly mind taking up that role again," Lejan said.

Vico looked away, his face shadowed with bitterness. "I am aware. Turns out it's rather a belt to the pride to have to stand behind someone else all the time just to get by. But you didn’t come here to listen to me whine."

"I did offer to lend an ear," Lejan said, but he kindly changed the subject. "So, your bond sister is back. You must be happy about that, even after what happened."

"I don't know if happy is the right word." Vico rested his chin on his hand and stared blankly into the middle distance. He was aware, on the far edge of his sense, of the warm little spark of the reestablished bond. "Hopeful, yes. Anxious, definitely. There's a lot to unpack. She—" He closed his eyes, not wanting to talk about how she had left when he still didn't understand why. "You remember what I told you about my father?"

"Yes?" Lejan said, puzzled by the abrupt switch of subject. Vico had told him about how he'd been adopted by Seya's family at the age of seven after one of his father's bouts of alcohol-fueled violence, but not the details, and not about how his bond with Seya had come about.

"I was a month shy of my eighth birthday the first time he hit me," Vico said. "Does it bother you to hear about this? You don't have to. I just—don't have anyone else I can talk to."

"No, go on," Lejan said.

"He was never a gentle person by any metric, but that day—" He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and with it the memories Seya's return had dredged up in him, things he'd been trying not to think about. "He had come over from Talesanne too late to have been an active part of the coup the Sancerre launched against the Malthusius, so he wasn’t arrested with the rest of them, but he was still on restriction because of the association. Forbidden to leave Starling, forced to work an assortment of shit jobs for the knights to get by. They used people on restriction like day labor in those days. My mother up and disappeared when I was two; no one ever figured out if she left him, or if he'd…done something to her.

"I don't remember much about her—she always seems to be crying when I think back. Apparently I looked just like her when I was a kid, and when I cried it always set him off. And I was a proper little crybaby. You can imagine, perhaps." He'd cried on Lejan's shoulder enough last summer. "He was already angry that day, tearing up the shitty little apartment we lived in, and when I started crying, he just—went off. I knew by then to stay out of his way when he got like that, but that day he was being so destructive I was too afraid to try. And then when I did, he…threw a table at me. One of the little ones by the couch. Caught me in the back of the head, slammed me into the door. I don't remember getting outside, but next thing I knew, I was lying on the sidewalk in front of the apartment, and there was a little girl about my age with big grey eyes sitting next to me, talking to me in Caldi. I could only understand a few words. She was crying too, and I thought that was strange, because I didn't have anyone who would have cried for me. I went out sometimes to play with the handful of other Talese kids in the neighborhood, because between us we could scrape together enough Talese and Caldi to understand each other, but I didn't have any regular friends. Everyone was too scared of my father to get close to me."

"No one did anything for you?" Lejan asked, horrified.

"It wasn't like now. The knights were in charge then, and they belonged as much to the clans as they did to the royal bond. In Starling, they were completely in thrall to the Malthusius, and the Malthusius hated everything to do with the Sancerre. No one spared a thought for a kid stuck in the aftermath of their sundering. No one made sure I was enrolled in school, even though this was after the king passed the Public Education Decree. Before that, only clan-born and affiliated kids were guaranteed some level of schooling, and that was dependent on the resources of their clan." He gave a bitter smile. "You know, my father got pressed into service building the elementary school here, but he never tried to enroll me either? I taught myself to read a little—the few Talese books and magazines he had around the house. He refused to learn to read Caldi. He loathed Caldona. There wasn't a day that went by he didn't curse the whole country that had him trapped."

"Anyway, Seya found me. When we couldn't talk to each other, she went away, and I thought I was going to be left there, maybe die there. But she came back a few minutes later with Ian, her stepfather, and he carried me back to their apartment, which was on the other side of the complex, and called a healer to look at me—Dalen Halcyon, who spoke enough Talese to make me understand that I didn't have to go back home. He took me to Halcyon to look after me—I was dangerously concussed—but Seya got so upset when he started to leave that they had to let her stay with me overnight at the school. After that, we were always together. She basically adopted me. A grave-faced girl with an unexpected ferocious streak, and eyes too old for her face and wild, beautiful magic that was much too big for her tiny self.” He closed his eyes against the tears the memory brought to them. “Seven years old, and she picked up a broken thing like me and loved me for no other reason than she knew I needed it. Of course I adored her completely, I didn't have any defense at all against that kind of affection. She was lonely too, isolated because of her family situation and because of her unpredictable magic, so I suppose it was only natural that we bonded. We hadn't even been together a year when it happened."

"So young!" said Lejan. "I didn't know—how was that even possible? Had your magic even awakened yet? I thought twelve was the average here."

"It woke then," Vico said. "She did it. Or rather, her magic caused it to happen, it was hardly deliberate on her part. But you're right, it shouldn't have been possible, not with both of us so young. It turned into a huge scandal. Endless debates as to what should be done about us, whether or not we should be separated, whether it counted as a violation of the Bond Act, since we were only a few months apart in age. People talking about how her magic was unnatural and dangerous. And Corin was incensed. His was one of the loudest voices saying I should be sent away before the bond could formalize. But Maeryn had refused to list him as Seya's father, and the law couldn't force her to give him a claim, so he had no authority over the matter, thank the gods."

"Is that normal in Caldona?" Lejan asked. "In Malacha, they'd have done a blood trace to confirm parentage. The law would have decided the case if custody was in dispute."

"In Caldona, blood and bond are equal in the eyes of the law, so a mother-bond trumps a paternal claim made outside a marriage or partner-bonded relationship, and there was no child bargain between them either. He had no idea she had even been pregnant until she came back to Starling with Seya. And it's illegal to do a blood trace on a minor without an officially-recognized parent or guardian's permission, so without proof beforehand—well. It didn't hurt that she was an utterly terrifying spiritualist mage. I'm not entirely certain as to why Maeryn bothered to come back here, when she had so many problems with Corin. I can't say I'm sorry she did, though, because nearly every scrap of advantage I've gleaned from this life came about because of my bond with Seya. Excellent education at Halcyon, the emotional support of our bond, a pack of adopted guardians who were terrifying enough to keep my father away from me for the most part. A sanctuary at Halcyon when everything blew up…"

"You got plenty of shit out of the deal too, as I recall," Jayen said from the doorway.

Lejan started. Vico just tipped his head to give Jayen a pointed, sidelong glance. "That's true. Being harassed and challenged every day by the clan kids who didn't like us was kind of a pain."

Jayen looked away first. He always hated being reminded of what a little bastard he'd been as a child.

"I did end up with a fair duelist ranking from all the practice you and your little clique gave me, so I suppose it wasn't entirely a disadvantage. Did you need something, or did you just come to eavesdrop on our conversation?"

"Is it eavesdropping if you kept on talking even thought you knew perfectly well I was here?" Jayen asked. He crossed to Vico's desk, with a disapproving scowl at Lejan. "Jacinth," he said, the greeting none too friendly.

"I should probably go," Lejan said. His tone made it more like a question. Vico shrugged. "Would you like me to bring you something from the commissary?"

"Yes, thank you. Anything is fine."

"No," Jayen countered. "He's having lunch with me."

"Am I?" Vico asked. "I don't recall being consulted on the matter." Jayen held up a file marked with the security logo. Vico sat up at that. "You know what, never mind, I'll be fine, Lejan. You can go."

When Lejan was gone, Vico turned back to Jayen. "What is so all fired important that you have to butt into a private conversation, acting like a possessive ass?"

"People are talking like you were involved in the assassination attempt. We need to present a united front, nip this in the bud."

As excuses to pester him went, it wasn't the worst one he'd tried. It even suited Vico's purposes, though he couldn't come out and admit that. "They always talk about me. You of all people should know that by now, and hanging out in my vicinity isn't going to stop that. Your father certainly isn't going to assume any good of it. He practically accused me of seducing you to keep quiet about the whole mess this morning."

Jayen snorted. "I wish."

Vico shot him an exasperated look. "I guess I can let you bring me lunch, since you just chased off the only other person in the clan who's willing to do me any favors."

"Just take a damn break and come eat with us."

"Who's us?"

Jayen glanced back at the door. Rena was standing outside, arms crossed, a bored look on her face. "I know you're the one who talked Micah into this bodyguard thing. It's ridiculous to have someone following me around in the compound. There is no inside job, no traitor."

"You'll have to excuse me if I don't share your biases on the matter. Is that the report you said you'd bring me?"

Jayen handed him the file. Vico skimmed through the pages. "You need this back?"

"Eventually."

"I'll look it over more thoroughly after I'm done with my work then." He put it in his satchel with the Bretinne papers. "What did the healers say?"

"That I should have let Halcyon fix me up and to go take a nap."

"Which you did not, clearly."

"I've got work to do."

"Nothing about your eyes?"

"Why, is there something wrong with them?" He leaned over Vico, so they were looking each other in the eye, his hand braced on the back of the chair over Vico's shoulder.

Vico met his gaze without batting so much as an eyelash. "They look all right from here," he said. Storm gray and showing every damn thing he thought and felt, like usual. The fingertips that brushed against his ear did elicit a reaction—a barely perceptible intake of breath. Vico's eyes flicked away briefly, but he held still as Jayen clipped the fire charm back on his earring. "You could have hung on to it a little longer. If you think you'll need something with more power than the standard issue ones," Vico said.

"I'll be fine," Jayen said, settling his hand on the back of the chair again, slow and deliberate.

Vico tipped his head back and regarded him with dry amusement. His earlier decision to act had struck a chord of optimism in him, and he was aware that it was a dangerous feeling to indulge. It was easy to forget, with this whisper of their old camaraderie and the spark of his reestablished bond with Seya warming the edge of his sense, that nothing had really changed. Seya still might not stay. His position in the clan had only been rendered more precarious than before. His relationship with Jayen, if it could still be referred to so charitably, still had no real future. Yet he still said, in a pleasantly needling tone, "Says the man who is currently ignoring a healer's advice."

"Like you've never done that yourself. That time at the water plant?"

Vico quirked an eyebrow at him. "I wouldn't normally go plunging into a fight with only an emergency block to hold my femoral artery closed. Is that your only example? I have about ten times more of you being more reckless with less cause."

"You still did it."

Vico lifted one hand in a careless shrug. "That was a few years ago, but I think I remember what I put down in my report. Should I recite it for you? As I recall, it was a life or death situation."

"Or maybe my recklessness rubbed off on you."

A hint of a smile pulled at Vico's lips. "And here I thought I was supposed to be the corrosive influence."

"It can work both ways. I think I've gotten a little sneakier."

Vico did smile at that. "Sneaky like a train wreck." It came out sounding too much like the endearment it was; Vico had a weakness for stupidly forthright people. "I thought you were bringing me food," he said.

"Just have lunch with me," Jayen said.

"I'm working." He indicated the piles of paperwork stacked neatly over his desk.

"You're not working right now."

"Because I'm being distracted by my very own personal disaster." Another endearment, one he hadn't used in years. Probably since Seya had left. He did not expect Jayen to remember, for his eyes to soften at the words Vico had spoken over a decade ago, words which had proven true, even if the disaster had lasted much longer than either of them had thought it could. Vico took advantage of how taken off guard he was by it to reach up and move Jayen's hand so he could sit up and pull his chair back to his desk. As if he had meant to do that all along.

Jayen stepped back a pace, dropping his eyes. "You can be so damn cold," he said, though he sounded more annoyed than hurt.

"Yes, I heard; Micah told me so earlier," Vico said.

"Why would Micah say that?"

"Oh, you know. Sneaky bastard, twisting things around to suit myself."

"Is that what you're doing now?"

"Always," Vico said lightly.

Jayen leaned on the corner of his desk, one hand lifting to Vico's chin, tipping his face up to look him in the eye again. "Is that a warning or a promise?"

Which one do you want it to be? He definitely could not say that. "Marten's coming back," he said instead, as the sound of a brisk, familiar footfall clacking along the tiled hall outside became audible.

Jayen made a face and moved back to a discreet distance, schooling his expression back to its customary glower. Vico gave a slight, bitter smile. Jayen's automatic response to the idea of getting caught being even remotely affectionate was a stark reminder of exactly how little future their relationship had always had. "Can't get caught flirting in front of your fellow brass," he said.

Jayen frowned at the sudden coolness of his tone. "If you came back to security, I can guarantee your superior wouldn’t object to that kind of behavior."

"I'm sure," Vico said dryly. And he'd be able to protect Vico from the consequences of it, if only Vico would return to being the quiet shadow he'd become to survive his tenure as Malthusius bonded. It would have been so easy to say yes, if he didn't know how it would eventually end: a messy breakdown, a moment of vulnerability for his enemies to use against him, another heartbreak. Vico wasn't sure he could survive a second round of that game.

Marten entered the room, stopping short on seeing Jayen, his face shuttering. "Marten," Jayen said, and watched the man proceed to his desk. "You can get that paperwork back to me whenever," he said to Vico before leaving the office.

Vico did not watch him go, not with Marten's calculating eyes on him. He did not lift his hand to his jaw where Jayen had touched him either, or fling the contents of his desktop across the room in frustration at how much of an idiot he was being. He did not allow his face to reflect even the smallest hint of what he felt—anguish, uncertainty, annoyance—for doing the same damn thing Jayen had done. Hide all evidence of feelings to avoid having them used against him.

He did toy absently with the fire charm, which was an old habit that would draw no particular attention. Shoved Amelan's chair back in place before she returned. Reminded himself he was done being passive, put all the unproductive thoughts and feelings away, and focused on the work he had left.


	15. Tied Hands, Torn Hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings: Discussions of the aftermath of violence, mild issues of consent (non-sexual in nature), on-page panic attack.

**Tied Hands, Torn Hearts**

Marten had gone off to some meeting by the time Rena brought Vico his lunch. "There was an incident on Merrow Lane, illegal duel," she said in response to his questioning look. "He had to go see about that."

"He didn't take you?" Vico said, frowning.

"Micah went with him, and two others from his crew. It was just Miredes again."

"Ah yes, Miredes," Vico said, relaxing. The man was trouble, but more of the annoying variety. "Which settled foreign spies are ruining Caldona's magic today? Not the Talese again, I hope."

Rena clearly did not consider Vico to be entitled to security gossip. "Jayen said to meet him at the garage at six to pick up your bond sister from the clinic." She recited this dutifully, with only a very mild disapproval instead of the clenched-jaw chill she'd leveled at him last time they'd run into each other. Vico wondered if she'd made up her own mind to be civil now, or just gotten a strongly worded lecture to inspire her to fake it.

"Thanks, Rena." She made a dismissive gesture and left. Vico ate quickly at his desk, and spent much of the remainder of his work day on the phone. He had several appointments for the week that needed rescheduling, and some tedious paperwork that he did not want to take home with him. His fellow mediators and the secretaries began to filter back in, Rezatte being the last. She paused before sitting down at her desk, staring down at the file that had not been there before she left. She glanced at each one of her office mates in turn, her eyes finally settling on Vico. He raised his eyebrows questioningly at her attention, his face carefully blank, and went back to work. She kept trying to catch his eye whenever she had to walk past his desk, but he pretended not to notice.

He left the office a bit early, taking an opportunity to breeze out while Marten was busy with a phone call and Amelan was in the file room depositing her paperwork for the day. Rezatte came barreling after him a minute later as he ambled along the paths through the grounds to the garage. He had been expecting that, and paced himself so that she caught up with him well before he reached the garage.

She smacked the file at him, eyes blazing. "What the hell is this, Rhaimes?"

He made a show of flipping through it. "Looks like the paperwork you got in trouble for losing this morning," he said. He stopped in the section he had worked on, the sigil-marked corners of the papers in full view, and looked at her, one eyebrow raised slightly. She glanced around, the realization that they were completely alone dawning in her face. He had deliberately taken the longest way around so that there would be no one close enough to overhear them, and so that the trees that filled the spaces between the buildings would hide them from view. Her eyes dropped back to the papers and she finally noticed the sigils on the pages, written in his precise, eminently recognizable hand.

She took a step back, eyes narrowing warily. "What do you want?"

"Nothing, really. Call it a bit of fellow feeling for someone who's been in that position before." His tone was pointed; he remembered very well how no one had bothered to speak up for him the week before, when Marten was calling him every name in the book and implying that he was deliberately sabotaging an important affiliation. He couldn't really blame her for that—he was a political landmine, even Jayen had paid a heavy price for keeping him near—but if she was inclined to feel even a little guilty about it, he was perfectly happy to use that to his advantage.

He held the file out to her. She took it back, still suspicious. "I know I filed these," she said.

"Yes, it's funny how things that get filed properly sometimes end up missing whenever Marten has an axe to grind," Vico said. He shrugged and turned to go. Glancing back, he could see Rezatte considering the words.

She followed him to the garage at a slightly slower pace, but caught up again as they approached the building. It was busy, now that the regular office hours were over, the fleet cars lined up along the drive to ferry home those bonded who did not have vehicles of their own. Fortuitously, Jayen was already there, leaning against his car and watching the day’s exodus play out. One of the security cars was parked next to his, with Micah, and Ioenne Canto, another of the day crew, to accompany him. Seeing them, Rezatte stopped. "If this is some kind of trick trick," she began, her voice low, her eyes flicking back to Vico.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean. It's really too bad, though, isn't it? That we don't have anyone to watch our backs, considering how close Marten is to our illustrious second." That was a bit of a gambit, playing his hand so openly. Addison had a great deal of pull with the high tier and the older Malthusius, but Jayen was far more popular among the younger generations. Vico was hoping Rezatte's age and her own limited mage status would make her more inclined to Jayen's side. After spending his formative years dealing with the fallout of his weak spiritual magic, Jayen had a tendency to deal more fairly with those of lower mage levels than the rest of the high tier.

As long as they were on his side, anyway. He still had the typically clan flaw of not caring enough about people who existed outside the sphere of his influence. As someone who had grown up outside the clan ethos, this bothered Vico more than he cared to admit; it was a topic he and Jayen had argued about frequently.

Vico left Rezatte standing on the path. All he could do now was hope she would not use what he had said to stab him in the back in an effort to get into Marten's good graces. There was no way he'd last the week at his job if Marten thought he was maneuvering against him in earnest. There was Jayen's offer to take him back into the security department as insurance, but that was a move he did not want to have to put into play. Not unless it was absolutely necessary. It was still too soon, for a lot of reasons, the most important of which being that if he wasn't careful he would never get what he wanted.

 _Probably not going to anyway_ , he thought, running his fingers through his hair absently. But for the first time in a while he felt like he wanted to try.

"Problem?" Jayen asked, eyes trained on him as he approached.

Vico tucked his hands into his pockets. "Not at all," he said pleasantly. Not yet, anyway. He nodded a greeting to Micah and Canto, who both climbed into the security car parked just behind Jayen’s. "They're following again?" Vico asked as he got in Jayen's car.

"I didn't think Seya would like having them in the car with us," Jayen said.

"That's considerate.”

"I can be considerate," Jayen said, throwing him a slight frown.

Vico smiled to himself, looking out the window. The wards on the car had been upgraded since that morning; someone was paying attention to their job. "What happened with Miredes?" he asked.

"It's his third offense against our affiliates, so I've launched an official investigation," Jayen said. "Approved by the guard, but I had to have Micah argue with them for nearly an hour before they agreed. I offered Miredes a challenge, but he ignored it like the cowardly bastard he is."

"I'm sure it wouldn't have done any good to win against him anyway," Vico said. "He's never honored any of his other duel judgements. I heard from Cheritt at the Bretinne Co-op that he's been linked to those magic purists who keep protesting the new developments."

"It's looking that way," Jayen said. He didn't elaborate. The group in question had sprung up after the destructive rebound at the Vetiver place last year. It had not escaped Vico's notice that they only targeted clan owned or affiliated developments. Probably the issue was too high profile to talk about to someone outside the department. What bothered Vico was not being left out of the loop, but fact that the Uprisers had started in a similar fashion thirty years before, needling at the clans with protests and attempts at legal action against those they did not agree with, petitioning for legislation to protect the old ways, spying on them, eventually resorting to sabotage and fear-mongering. Vico didn’t like it. It felt too much like history gearing up to repeat itself, if only on a small scale.

He filed those thoughts away well before they arrived at Halcyon Clinic. The security detail waited outside while the receptionist processed Seya’s discharge. Kaya went over instructions for her care, which were pretty much the same as Aren's from that morning, but Vico listened patiently, sitting on the bed next to Seya. She was sunk into the drowsy lassitude of being on high level pain wards for several hours, but he could feel through the bond that she was glad of his presence.

"Let her sleep as much as she wants," Kaya was saying. "She'll probably be out of it for several days, but please do remember that lengthy exposure to high level pain wards can dull the appetite, so make sure she eats regularly."

"I would have done that anyway," Vico said. "She looks like a bloody war refugee."

"She does have symptoms of long term, though low grade malnutrition," Kaya said.

Vico felt a twinge of guilt. Probably letting her fight with Jayen had just been a terrible idea all around. "Where’s Aren?"

"He's in his office," Kaya said with a touch of severity. "Where he will stay until Seya is gone. I will be in charge of her care until she is cleared enough of the curse to deal with people who are, perhaps, rather too confrontational." She turned a pointed look at Jayen, where he stood in the doorway of the patient room, wearing an aggressive-looking scowl that Vico knew actually meant he was extremely uncomfortable and trying not to let it show.

"I'm not the one who slammed her into the wall," Jayen said.

"Aren tells me you two had a contentious relationship," she said. "Considering her current state, and what Aren told me about her magic, she is at high risk of another rebound. Another one like today and she could die. Please keep that in mind."

"She better not die, after all the trouble I went to helping keep her alive," Jayen muttered.

"He won't do anything to upset her," Vico said. "He's just chauffeuring." He set a hand on Seya's back and prodded her very gently. "Seya, we're going home. You want to sit up?"

She made enough of an effort that he was able to get his arms around her and lever her upright and out to the car, where she curled up in a boneless puddle in the backseat. Vico sat with her while Jayen drove—very carefully this time.

At the apartment, Micah got out to do a check of the surrounding area. Jayen tapped his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel until Micah returned. "You're clear," he said.

Vico pulled Seya out. She was a slightly more awake than before, enough to narrow her eyes at Micah. "Callahan," she muttered, drooping onto Vico's shoulder. She was a little peeved at him for ratting her presence out to Corin, and with her defenses practically gone, everyone could feel it.

"Gods, she looks terrible," Micah said.

"Well, she did almost die twice in the last twenty-four hours," Vico said, steering her toward the building. "Jayen, come help me get her up the stairs."

Jayen grumbled only a little when he ended up wrangling her up the steps himself while Vico trotted ahead to unlock the door. Seya lifted her head and studied Jayen with a vaguely disapproving look.

"What?" he said testily.

"It's really not fair how you both got taller than me," she grumbled.

Jayen regarded her in disbelief. Vico laughed. "Bring her inside and put her on the couch," he said. Jayen deposited her onto the couch, gently. She immediately slumped over on her uninjured side and curled into the corner, her eyes drooping shut.

"Do you need anything else?" Jayen asked.

"Food would be good. I don't have a damn thing left in the house."

"I can pick you up some things—" Jayen began, and stopped when Vico fixed him with a severe look. "I can have Canto pick you up some things," he amended. "Make a list for them."

Vico went to fetch a pen and some paper, made a short list, which Jayen tucked into his pocket. Micah was waiting on the landing, impatient. "If you need anything, just ping me," Jayen said. "I'm putting Canto out here tonight to keep an eye on this place, in case."

"Thank you," Vico said.

"It's nothing," Jayen said, his voice going gruff. His footfalls were heavy on the metal stairs.

Vico shut the door and let out a breath, resting his forehead against the wood while he put himself back to center. He'd spent more time with Jayen in the last twenty-four hours than he had in the last month, and it was harder than he anticipated to deal with the feelings it was bringing up. Somehow having him in his apartment, even if just a few minutes, made it seem even more cramped and lonely than before.

But, he reminded himself, he wasn't alone right now. Seya needed him. He went to sit beside her on the couch. She was asleep, her left arm curled protectively over her chest. He took her elbow, testing, and when she did not react, he carefully unfolded her arm and studied the grubbily gloved hand. With her defenses down so low, he could feel the warding coming off of it, and looking closer, he could see a pattern of scars emerging from beneath the fabric around her wrist. Though pattern wasn't quite the right word. They looked like the ends of a written spell, etched white into the gold of her skin. He traced the rough lines, trying to frame them as pieces of charms or sigils that he could decipher. Through the bond, he could feel the faint edges of the shadow, as if it were seated in them, and opened his sense to it, questing for an answer.

At that she came awake and jerked her hand away with a jolt of panic, clutching it to her chest, her eyes wide with shock, a sense of betrayal emanating through the bond. "Don't—don't," she said, he words barely coherent. She sat up, sinking back down immediately.

"I'm sorry," Vico said, terrified for a moment that he had accidentally sent her into another rebound, but she just curled further in on herself, withdrawing as far from their bond as she could and closing her eyes, her breathing harsh and uneven. "Seya?" He touched her arm again.

"Don't," she gasped. "Don't do that. Don't—pry into me like you're owed an answer. I can't—give you that."

"I'm sorry, I just—" He took a deep breath, willed away the infectious sense of panic. "I want to help you. That's all."

"I know you do. It doesn't make that right." Her eyes opened, stark and glassy in her ashen face. "Don't do that. Not you. If I—still mean anything to you." Her voice shuddered and broke on a quiet sob.

"You know you do," he said, stricken. "I'm sorry, I won't. I just wanted to understand. I didn't mean to—pry." She was shaking like a leaf. He reached for her again, but she flinched away. He withdrew, folding his arms over his knees and watching her until she had calmed down, at a loss for what to do. The truth of the accusation hit him like a blow. He had presumed on their bond, selfishly, as if it were still the same as it had been before, instead of a fragile thing stolen in a moment of desperation, without formality or negotiation, or the boundaries that made sharing something that intimate bearable for someone with magic like hers. He should have known that. That was the way it had happened before, but they had been children then, with time and space to grow into it. He didn't know what they had now. A week, maybe. If she thought she couldn't trust him, maybe not even that.

He hunched over, his fingers tangling through his hair. Always a mistake to feel hopeful about anything. By now he should have known better than that.

After a long moment, he felt her knee pressing into his back, and thought for a moment she was trying to eject him from the edge of the couch. "I'm sorry," he said again, checking his shields, worried that he was reflecting his distress at her, but she had pushed herself upright with her good arm. She wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head against the back of his shoulder. She wouldn’t tune back into the bond, but then she had never needed bonds to share feelings with anyone.

"Are you comforting me?" Vico asked softly, chagrined. He knew what it cost her to do that. It should have been the other way around.

"Don't. Don't be upset," she mumbled. "It's not you. I'm the one—" _Who broke us_ , she didn't say, but that was the feeling, regret and sorrow and under that, fear. Vico shifted, loosening her grip gently and pulling her to his side, putting everything away but the sincere wish for her to feel safe with him. He cradled her head against his shoulder until she fell back asleep, hoping, if cautiously, that maybe it wasn't so much of a mistake to hope.

❀

Zan came in from his last class of the day to an argument.

"All I'm saying is that you're wasting your time worrying about her," Aren was saying as he tossed his satchel onto the bench next to the door. "She's been trouble from the moment she was born, Kaya. I ought to know, she was a fixture here from the time she was an infant. I'm not just repeating a bunch of old gossip. I had front row seats to the disaster that is Seya."

She eyed him severely. "I still think you’re being too harsh. It's unbecoming of a healer to speak that way to a patient, no matter what she may have done a decade ago."

"Or yesterday, apparently!" Aren said, marching into the kitchen, arms flung out dramatically. Kaya followed him, rolling her eyes.

"How is she?" Zan asked.

"Oh, Zan, hello," Kaya said. "I believe she will recover without further complications as long as she's kept out of situations like this morning. That was quite the most vicious curse I've ever seen. Fortunately she seems like an extraordinarily resilient person. A trifle malnourished and aurically unbalanced, but those are things easily remedied by rest and proper care. I'm sure Vico will take good care of her. They seem very close."

"Bond siblings," Aren said. "Well, they were. I’m not sure now."

"Malnourished.” Zan thought about the fleeting impression he'd had before she left Halcyon Monday night and regretting, again, that he had not tried to stop her leaving.

Adiel looked up from the table, where he was studying for his upcoming mage certification exams. "Who are you guys taking about?"

"A patient," Kaya said. "And yes, even yesterday, Aren. Is there something particularly objectionable about getting hurt while helping someone else? Aside from the inconvenience it caused to you, personally?"

"It's not the fact that she was helping someone! It's that she obviously hasn't changed even a little. She wouldn't even tell me where she's been. Prison, probably. She has that Malthusius temper on her."

"And that's another thing," Kaya said. "Who her parents are is hardly her fault. Twitting her about it when it's clearly a sore point is just cruel."

"I wasn't twitting her, it just came out. I wasn't thinking." He had the grace to look embarrassed about it.

"Please think a little next time, then. And you are the last person who should be making remarks about the Malthusius temper," said Kaya. "You certainly don't keep yours to yourself when someone winds you up."

"Is it true?" Zan asked. "I remember you saying she brought her trouble with the Malthusius here when Winter brought her to the school, but don't recall hearing about that."

"Everyone knows it's true," Aren said. "Maeryn _caldi_ was involved with Corin Malthusius just before his mother was killed in a coup by the Sancerre. She vanished almost immediately afterward, and turned up a little less than a year later with an infant Seya. As if that wasn't enough of a scandal, Corin's second, Ian Tellurita, abandoned him and _married_ her. It was a huge deal at the time, a defection right after he had assumed control of the clan bonds. It didn't help that Seya was clearly not Ian's daughter. He and Maeryn were both of old southern Caldi blood. Maeryn wasn't the type to run away from a conflict though, so the two of them settled here right under Corin's nose even though he was determined to make their life hell for it. Though Maeryn was very nearly as intimidating as Malthusius in her way. Everything was a battle of wills between those two, so it's not a surprise that their daughter turned out as stubborn and volatile as both of them. She practically grew up at Halcyon, with her mother gone for her work as an itinerate priestess all the time, and her magic just as wild and unstable as her family situation, practically since she was born."

"You said she was a prodigy?" Kaya said. "I'll admit I've have never seen someone so young with that level of spiritual resonance."

"That was the main reason Malthusius kept trying to bully Maeryn into giving him custody of Seya—and believe me, he tried everything: bribery, threats, blackmail. You know how people with very high levels have a kind of—draw when they open up?" The healers both glanced at Zan, who felt a flush creeping into his face. "Try to imagine that in a child with no way to contain it. She wasn't allowed to go out by herself, because that magic of hers would have people following her around. I can't even count the number of times Ian got arrested for busting heads over it. He took his duty as her protector very seriously. Then after Maeryn disappeared there was an incident with one of the Malthusius kids. Seya and Vico both ended up hurt, badly, and then Ian got himself killed. Seya was remanded to the school's custody, which officially made her our problem. She disappeared a couple of years later, after her mother was killed by the Uprisers. I'd assumed Seya was dead all this time too. The war had just hit Starling, so everything was a mess."

"That is absolutely horrifying," Kaya said. "How could you even bring up such a fraught subject to someone who is recovering from a curse?"

"I'll admit it wasn't a shining example of professionalism, but you didn't grow up with her. She's always been one to throw herself into harm's way. What was she doing here yesterday anyway?" Aren asked, turning to Zan. "You said she came to see Mother."

"That was the night before, and I'm not sure. She left after I told her about your parents, then I saw her again in the market yesterday. There was an incident with a young girl who tried to steal my wallet, and Seya stepped in to keep her out of trouble."

"Sounds like something she'd do," Aren muttered. "Only Seya would throw herself in front of a curse for the brother she grew up fighting with constantly. She once got into trouble for fighting with him because he was picking on me. I think I was twelve at the time. She was ten. It was downright embarrassing."

"So she's always been like that," Zan said.

"Yeah, that was one thing I always liked about her when we were growing up," Aren admitted grudgingly. "She really went off the rails after it got out about her mother being an Upriser though."

"I think that's understandable," Kaya said.

"Sounds like something out of a dime novel," Adiel said. "And you invited her to lunch!"

"You didn't, Zan!" Aren said. "Gods, just stay out of her way. She's going to be nothing but trouble the whole time she's in Starling. I know you and your savior complex, wanting to help everyone who falls into your line of sight."

Zan's brow furrowed at that. "It's literally my job, Aren. Halcyon exists to help people.”

"Yes, and I know why you take that duty so seriously, too. You'll try to help her, and you'll be hurt when you can't. Like my parents were."

Zan said, patiently, "I am not the same person I was when I came here five years ago. What happened in Castiverre—" He shook his head. "That was a long time ago. You can stop worrying about me. I doubt this is going to be an issue anyway. I can't imagine she'll want to come back here now."


	16. Quiet Days and Unquiet Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t think anything in this chapter needs warning, but as always, let me know if I’m wrong!

Due to the constant need for pain wards, Seya spent the next two days of her recovery in a haze, dozing on Vico's couch and being ferried back and forth twice a day to be checked over by Kaya. Vico kept up a steady stream of reminisces and anecdotes whenever she was coherent enough to appreciate them. When she slept he sat nearby looking over the Bretinne spellwork in preparation for the inspection and managing what other work he could over the phone.

By the third day the curse had abated enough for the healers to drop her down to a single, medium-level pain ward. She was feeling fairly lucid by the time they got back to Vico's place, and actually hungry, which was a pleasant change from the ward-induced lethargy. Vico was so pleased he didn't have to pester her to eat that he cooked for her even though it was several hours until lunch.

"Do you want some help?" she asked.

"I do not. Stop pacing and sit down. You're still supposed to be resting."

After three days of inactivity, she felt wobbly on her legs but far too restless to sit. She leaned on the dining table, watching him work. "When did you get so domestic? You always complained when Winter made us do chores at Halcyon."

"When I lived with Jayen, it became appalling clear that at least one of us should be able to manage basic household things when the housekeeper was away, and, well, Jayen is Jayen. Excellent at managing security matters and ordering people around and settling fights, and completely hopeless at anything even bordering on menial. At least I got something useful out of all the things Winter made us do when we were at Halcyon. And I discovered I like cooking. It's relaxing."

She glanced around the apartment. It was small and cheap, and because it was Vico's, immaculately clean, but the thing that stood out to her the most was how _bare_ it was. The furnishings were all nondescript, clearly second-hand, and it all felt utilitarian rather than homey and lived in, as if the time he spent in the place was incidental. There were no pictures on the walls. The only nonessential items were books, and most of those looked to be work-related research. She turned one over to study the title. It was in Talese, which she spoke well enough to get by, but the text was so dense and technical that all she could make out was that it was about automagic spellwork. She set the book aside. "How long have you lived here?"

"Not quite a year. It's not much, I know. Never got into the habit of keeping a lot of stuff around. It's easier that way."

Her eyes fell to the bag containing all her worldly possessions, small enough to stuff out of the way under the end table in his living room. "I didn't think you two would last that long."

He stirred the vegetables in the frying pan and said nothing. She assumed that meant he was more upset about the dissolution of that relationship than he wanted to let on. The weight of everything they weren't sharing was almost suffocating.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Lots of things," he said and changed the subject. She listened as he talked about the work he'd been doing, mediating for the Malthusius affiliates. His stories were full of energy thieves and territorial disputes and local purists who objected to the heavily industrialized magic of the new developments, with the occasional duel thrown in, though that wasn't usually a duty that fell to mediators. Vico was good at spinning the details of a story to his own purposes, and even though she knew he was playing up this talent to distract her from the underlying unpleasantness of their current situation, the ploy still worked. She managed to relax a little while he talked.

He wouldn't let her help clean the kitchen after they had eaten, either. "Is it really okay for you to be away from work this long?" she asked, as he stood at the sink in his tiny kitchen, elbow deep in soapy water.

"It's all good. I was due a vacation anyway."

"Taking care of someone who got cursed is not a vacation." His casual attitude toward looking after her was starting to annoy her, a feeling motivated in large part by guilt. She was making an effort not to think about the reason why. She was making an effort not to think about a lot of things. Fortunately she had a great deal of practice at it.

"I don't mind. I think of it as catching up with my darling idiot bond sister."

"Is that what we're doing?" She had been expecting a deluge of questions from the moment she was coherent enough to answer them, but he had not asked even one. His reticence was all the proof she needed to understand that he was, underneath all that outward composure, still very upset.

"I figured you'll tell me your half of the catching up when you're ready," he said.

"Optimistic of you," she muttered.

He gave an exasperated sigh. "There is something I have to do for work today. I mentioned it yesterday, but you were still pretty out of it. An inspector from the city administration coming to that new factory I told you about, and I have to present the traces and give her a tour of the 'works to ensure a tiresome number of legal papers get signed. It's at one. I don't like to leave you, but it's a Talese concern, and I'm the one they've been dealing with all this time. We can't afford to offend them, not with the current problems. Malthusius is on the hook for a lot of money on this deal."

"What kind of problems are you talking about? Is it the dissonance in the magic around here, or this thing with Jayen?"

"My friend Lejan in L&R says his crew hasn't been paying any particular attention to the magic outside ours, but he's going to look into it for me. I did ask Jayen about that girl the other morning when he drove us to the clinic, but he's been busy with the Miredes case himself. He told me he'd have his people keep an eye out for her."

"Oh, that's good. Thank you, I had kind of forgotten about that," she said.

"I expected you had, after spending the last three days incapacitated. But the trouble I was referring to was with out affiliation with Bretinne. The people running the co-op have access to highly advanced automagic patents through family connections in Talesanne, and this affiliation would give Malthusius an in for licensing them here in Caldona. It's a big deal for the clan, and the association would allow us access to the spellwork to revamp our other interests, and bring in more profitable affiliations."

"Talese automagic?" Seya said. "Isn't that stuff famous for its complex written spellwork?" Written magic had always been a weakness of hers. While she was an excellent mage, her talents lay in directed spellwork and having absurdly good spiritual sense. She just didn't have the patience for the complicated written charms and sigils, not when directed magic came so easily to her.

Written magic was a skill anyone could learn, regardless of their inherent mage levels, but it required a great deal of knowledge, much of which was still jealously guarded by clan interests through patents and education exclusive to the clan-born among their ranks. That was changing, slowly, with the advent of magic schools like Halcyon that had popped up in the wake of the Public Education Decree, but that was exactly the reason why such schools were often dealt with so harshly by the clans as well. Not every schoolmaster could be like Winter, a former dueling champion trained and educated by a powerful and highly political clan. "Doesn't that sort of magic drive common people out of work? I was passing through Zinthia a few months ago, and the unaffiliated citizens were having a huge protest about it. Riots in the streets and clan enforcers breaking people's windows, the guard arresting people left and right. It was chaos."

Vico shrugged. "Malthusius can't afford not to swing with the times. The old ways might employ more people, but with everyone moving over to automagic-run machinery, it wouldn't be profitable enough in the long run to maintain the bonds or the business. We know all about the protests in other counties. Whatever you think about Malthusius, we do our due diligence."

She gave him a flat-eyed stare. "Did you just party line me?"

"It's a literal fact. Corin knows he has to obey the new laws if he wants to keep his bond and his properties and his money. We've already been having problems with the purists. There was a delegation trying to have the work on the building shut down until a thorough elemental mapping was done, and a lawsuit over patent issues. There were also a few attempts by other clans to use that and various other setbacks as a way to poach the affiliation out from under us."

"Which clans? I know Hemsley's still around. It sounds like something they'd do, but it's been a while. I'm not exactly up on things around here."

"Alsanna took over Hemsley from her father a few years ago, staged a coup against him to prevent the sundering of the clan during the restructuring. They've run a fairly clean ship since then. From a legal standpoint, at any rate. Aside from them and us, there's one other guy with a controlling stake, that Albrecht I told you about—though he has no legal clan status as yet due some difficulties right after the war—his original clan was sundered in Mardre. He was actually the first to try to poach Bretinne from us."

"What about the rest?" She didn't know why she was asking when she was planning to leave, but she didn't like not knowing anything.

"There was another one, Adeline Vetiver, who bought out the Alsace just after the beginning of the restructuring, but she left Starling last year after some trouble—that place north of town, the one that's tainting the resonances? It was hers. Negligence was the ruling. She forfeited a considerable chunk of her properties settling the damages, they were auctioned a few months ago, mostly to Albrecht, but we got that place. Our mages are working on cleaning it up, but it was left to founder so long while the legal battle was going on that it's been slow work."

Seya frowned. "Malthusius bought that wreck to clean it up?"

"For rather mercenary reasons, but yes. We have properties over in that area, it was screwing up our lines for months. There are a couple of other small fry types who can gum things up but aren't big enough to cause serious trouble. Cerouse, they're an offshoot of Talbot that broke away during the restructuring—amicably, from what I understand—they hold a couple of streets on the west side and the water elemental refinery on the other side of the river, and then there's Senesca. You remember him."

"Couldn't have forgotten," she muttered. August Senesca had not qualified as a bondmaster back when they were children, though his business was run on the same type of bond magic as a clan. A strong ambition to possess a controlling interest in Starling's magic had led him to become one of the worst offenders, after Corin, for trying to court her magic to add to his bonds.

"He's been snatching up unaffiliated elemental lines since the restructuring unsettled everything, and now he has quite a little monopoly on the south side of town. Not controlling stakes though, thankfully. He's still fucking scum." He made a disgusted face. "There's also Malcolm Weyland, a Telesanne national with a couple of business interests here and in Artrine. No stakes in the magic here—he doesn't use bonds at all, strictly elementalist contract mages for high level specialty automagic. He's a shifty bastard; I've had to deal with him before. He enjoys trying to lure our high elementalists out from under us. He originally offered to fund Bretinne before we went to them with the offer, but they don't like him. They're fairly…let's say _traditional_ , for Talese expats, and Weyland is a notorious hedonist. He owns property next to the Bretinne site, and he's been in and out of Mediations and Legal on one dispute or another since we broke ground. I suspect he's doing it to spite them. Or us, perhaps."

"Does he have reason to?"

"Corin doesn't like him either? General shit-stirring? Who knows. He's a bit of a wild card. You'd hate him."

"What about the assassination attempt? Has there been any headway on that?"

"Not that I'm aware. I spoke to Micah and Jayen, and the traces from the curse charms have been inconclusive."

"No suspects?"

Vico's expression went grim. "There are very few non-affiliated people in town who wouldn't benefit from having Malthusius shaken up by the death of the heir. It would fuck up the bond something terrible, destroy morale, put a halt on all our business while the funeral rites were carried out. The internal conflicts it would spark concerning the succession would definitely break the clan apart."

"They seriously have no leads?" she said, skeptical.

"I'm not inside enough to be looped into the official investigation," Vico said. "I looked over the details and offered some insights is all. I don't think Hemsley would risk such a drastic move, though. They'd lose everything if it came out, and that is a hell of a lot to lose. They have a quarter stake in Starling."

Seya considered this. It seemed like too much of a coincidence that there was malicious dissonance going on at the same time the most powerful clan in Starling was under attack. "What about the guard? What are they doing about it? Shouldn't they be coming around to question me?" she said.

"They did come, but you were so out of it there was no point in having them talk to you. Even if you had been coherent, nothing you said under the influence of pain wards can be used as testimony anyway. I suspect Corin will buy them off to keep them out of the investigation."

Seya made a face at the idea of being protected by Corin's wealth, but she could hardly complain, even if the protection was incidental to not getting himself arrested for assaulting her into a rebound. She certainly didn’t want to talk to the guard. Thinking about that reminded her uncomfortably of her former notoriety around town. How big a deal was it going to be? A newsworthy event? Would Corin's precautions extend to keeping her name out of the papers? She thought about asking, but she didn't want to have to make up a reason why she was so anxious about it. There were four more days of her treatment left, but she didn't think she could wait that long. Hopefully tomorrow she would feel stronger. She was already tired again. She went to the chair in the living room and curled up in a ball.

"I've arranged for Jayen to come keep an eye on you while I'm gone," Vico said.

She sat back up, indignation flooding through her like adrenaline. "You have got to be kidding me! I don't need watching, I feel fine."

"Healer's orders, you're supposed to be under supervision. Lejan's the only other person I'd trust with you, and he's busy today."

She vaguely recollected the name from Vico's ramblings over the last two days. "Your friend from L&R? Is he that big Malachai guy who brought you groceries yesterday?"

"I thought you were asleep when he came by."

"I woke up while you were talking to him on the landing."

"Ah. Yes, that was Lejan. I think you'd like him too, he's a great guy. But it's probably not a good idea to stick you with a stranger when your defenses are still this low. At least you can't catch Jayen."

"Technically, I've already caught him." She could still feel the faintest spark of the bond on the edge of her sense. It didn't exactly make her happy, but she couldn't bring herself to do anything to cut it off either.

"He's not that susceptible. It's just a blood bond."

She made a face at him. "Don't think for one second I can't tell what you're doing."

"It'll be easy to avoid playing into it then, won't it?" His smile was all innocence.

Seya shot him a scowl.

Jayen arrived while Vico was getting dressed to leave, his irritation filtering through their bond several minutes before he banged on the door. She opened it to find him scowling at Micah and Canto. "I said stay out here, so you're going to stay out here! Who do you think you're talking to, anyway?"

Micah gave a long-suffering sigh. "At least let us secure the premises first," he said.

"Vico, tell him you've secured the place," Jayen said, as Vico came out of his bedroom.

"It's as secure as I can make it," Vico said, fastening the last few buttons on his shirt. "If you want I can key you to my wards for the afternoon."

"That's acceptable, I guess. We'll be here on the landing if you need anything," Micah said.

"I won't need anything! Stay here, stay in the car, I don't give a god's damn." Jayen brushed past Seya impatiently and flopped down on the couch.

"Nice to see you again too," Seya said. "Is it really okay for the person who's actually in danger to be babysitting me?"

"You shut up," Jayen growled. "I'm not doing this for you, I'm doing it for Vico. I didn't even want bodyguards, someone talked Micah into it against my wishes." He shot Vico a look.

"Yeah, I imagine it's annoying being followed around like a helpless infant day and night despite being perfectly capable of taking care of yourself," Seya said. She was shooting Vico the same look.

"We get it already, you're both brats," Vico said, throwing his satchel over his shoulder.

"Your collar is crooked," Jayen said, standing up to fix it for him. Vico sighed and removed Jayen's hands from his collar with a pointed expression. "What?" Jayen demanded, crossing his arms with an impatient little huff. "It's just friendly gesture. We are supposed to be friends, aren't we?"

Seya gave a little snort of laughter.

"What?" Jayen bristled at her.

"Nothing," she said.

"Listen, thanks for doing this," Vico said. "There are leftovers in the fridge if you get hungry. I'll be back in a few hours, probably. I expect both of you to be alive, and my apartment in one piece when I get back. If you have to fight, please restrain yourselves to words, at least. And don't bother the neighbors being too loud about it." His eyes flicked to Jayen. "She's still at risk of rebound, so you know."

"I'm not going to rebound her," Jayen said testily.

"I sincerely hope not," Vico said, his tone sharpening as he added, "You aren't going to want to find out what would happen if you did." This earned him a scowl from Micah, which he ignored.

Jayen just rolled his eyes. "You're not walking, are you?" he asked. "I sent out a recommendation that no one go out alone until we have this assassination thing settled."

"Davin is driving me."

"Davin Gates is an idiot," said Jayen. "And he's probably spying on you too, at least inadvertently. Take Micah, he's got his head on straight."

"I am aware that Davin has a big damn mouth. I was counting on it, as a matter of fact, but I will take Micah, since I needed to talk to him anyway."

"It better not be about more damn bodyguards and security crap around my house."

"You sure do worry a lot for someone so set against having his own bodyguards," Vico said.

Jayen scowled at him. "Whatever, just watch your back."

❀

Micah, predictably, was not pleased, neither by the order, nor to be replaced by someone who had been drummed out of the security department for incompetence. He did not argue, however, and he and Vico left as soon as Davin arrived with the car.

"It was Addison who told Corin about the duel," Micah said as he drove to Bretinne. "They're practically feuding about it. It's been tense around the compound the last couple days."

"Shockingly enough," Vico said.

"Addison foisted the blame onto the people he had looking into Seya's reappearance, so they could both save face, but I don't think anyone except the working bonded were fooled. There's been a lot of talk, rehashing of old stories. Stuff about the fights the two of you used to get into with Jayen and the rest of us, some of them going around with wild exaggerations. You might want to watch your back. The fact that you haven't been there the last couple days is not working in your favor."

"Like being there would?" Vico said. "Can't be helped. Tell me who's saying what."

It was going about the way he expected. Addison's faction was hinting that his loyalties were divided. Marten was swearing up and down he was neglecting his work. The high tier was making noise about _unsuitability_. There were rumblings of dissent among the people loyal to Jayen, some of whom who considered him to be acting foolishly in associating openly with Vico and his half-sister. Corin was being closed mouthed about everything. Tor, who had been thrown under the bus by Addison after the details about his visit to Halcyon had gotten out, was being quiet for once, and that did surprise him.

"Jayen gave him what for," Micah said. "Had a go at Landen too, for not keeping him in hand, but it was all was behind closed doors. He can't really afford to humiliate the head of the night crew and the youngest son of a member of the high tier just because they were making disparaging comments about you."

"I thought Landen was on Jayen's side. What was he saying?"

"It was more about Jayen than you, really. Told him he was being 'blatantly led about the nose by that fucking Sancerre whore'."

Vico ground his teeth. Of all the things he'd been called over the years, that was the one that bothered him the most. That any small success he might have managed was not a product of his own efforts, but handed to him because of his relationship with Jayen.

"To be fair, with Seya's mother being an Upriser and all, the fact that she's in your house is only going to add to the negative perception. Given the history between Seya and Jayen, it's the first thing people are going to think."

"An ancient sibling rivalry is enough to override the fact that she saved his life?"

Micah shrugged. "People believe what they want, and it doesn't suit anyone's purposes to think well of her, or of Corin's old attachment to her either. He's spent the last ten years burying all that to appease his high tier. Going to bat for her now isn't going to do him any favors in that regard."

It was true. Before the war, the bondmaster had absolute power over their clan, but with the new restrictions on bond magic and the reduced capacity of the Clan Council, they had only what power they could hold on to. A clan as large as Malthusius had to balance very carefully. In the current political climate, Malthusius could not afford to lose its bonded. The hit to the bond magic alone would be considerable, to say nothing of the financial costs if they bled out workers, or lost property and investments held by the higher level bonded. The loss of political influence and the expense of the cleanup after the war had done some damage to their finances, but though they had recovered without losing any of their stake in Starling's magic, and had even managed to increase it in the interim, the current foray into automagic expansion was high in risk.

And Seya's continued presence was going to be divisive. Vico settled back in his seat, thinking, grimly, that from the business and political standpoint, it would be best if she did not stay. He wanted to reject that thought completely, but he was too much aware of how easy it would be for Jayen to lose everything he'd been working for if things went wrong.

Of course, if he didn't care about that one aspect he wouldn't need to try to get her to stay in the first place. He could just go with her when she left. The prospect of choosing between the two of them did not fill him with enthusiasm. He went over everything again, filing the details away as he searched for the angle that would allow him to turn the situation into an advantage.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so, chapter! Imagine that!
> 
> Seriously tho, I apologize; the Covid totally ruined my life for the first couple of months and I spent the other two trying very hard to get back into my creative endeavors and...failing miserably. Haven’t written anything much since March. :(
> 
> Oh well. This is me, making an effort. Have a chapter. Heads up that there is some mild sexual harassment in this chapter, Though neither of the subjects of it are terribly upset by it. Even though Malcolm Weyland is my favorite antagonist of the series, his introduction does cast him as kind of a massive pig.

Chapter Seventeen

After Vico left, Jayen flung himself down on the chair, tossing a sullen eye around the room. "I can't believe I'm stuck here with you," he grumbled.

"So leave already. It's not like I'm super thrilled either."

"I can't do that, Vico would kill me. It's been hard enough just getting him to talk to me lately." He regarded her with resentment. "I don't understand why he'd fall all over himself for you after you abandoned him like that."

She slouched, looking away. "You must have done something to hurt him too. I felt how upset he was when you were arguing in front of the cafe the other day."

"You shut the hell up. Do you know how messed up he was after you disappeared? Your mother had just been killed by the Uprisers, and the town was a war zone! Everyone thought you were dead. I was the one who kept him from self destructing, so don't you dare talk to me about what I might have done. I could never do anything as terrible as severing him without a word the way you did."

Seya closed her eyes, wishing she could just block out the memory of that terrible day. She said, "That's what you were so angry about the other day? I thought you were just being jealous." Her voice was level enough that Jayen did not notice the distress that edged the words—but he wouldn't have anyway, in his anger.

"Of course I'm angry about it! You put him through all that and then you show up on his doorstep to sponge off him like nothing happened? I'm surprised he didn't straight up murder you! I know I wanted to!"

"I don't know where you're getting your information, but that's not how it happened. I came back to see Winter. I wouldn't even still be here if Vico hadn't come looking for me himself."

"Which means you weren't even planning to see him again!"

"Why are you even madder about that? Make up your damn mind."

He swore some more, mostly under his breath, getting to his feet and stalking around the tiny living room and kitchen. "Gods, I hate this place," he said, finally sitting back down. "It's like being suffocated, it's so small."

He had burned off enough of his anger that the hurt was creeping through. Seya didn't want any of his; she had enough of her own. She curled up on her side and tried to block him out, but the ensuing silence was even worse. "What happened?" she asked.

"He didn't tell you?"

"He didn't want to talk about it."

"Good, it's none of your damn business." He hunched over in his chair, chin on his fists, glaring at the carpet. "What do you care anyway?"

"I care about Vico."

"Funny way of showing it, severing him and vanishing for a decade. Where the hell were you, anyway?"

"That's none of your damn business."

He shot her a dark look.

"Look, let's just agree that we are both the worst and that we're lucky Vico ever put up with us," she said.

The corners of his lips turned down resentfully, but he didn't deny it. He looked away, hurt flashing in his eyes. "Said he wasn't happy," he muttered. "Tired of people not taking him seriously because he was with me. Like he's not smarter than everyone else on my crew! It's not my fault everyone blames him because of his gods damned family."

"And you clearly took that really well," she said.

"Well, he made it sound like he didn't trust me to take care of him! Like I wouldn't do anything for him. He said didn't want me to do anything for him, he wanted to be able to do things for himself, which is ridiculous, considering his position, and anyway, we're all clan, so what does it matter? I'll eventually be the head of the whole damn thing, so it'll be like I'm taking care of everyone anyway. But he didn't want to hear that. We ended up shouted at each other for a while and I thought that would be the end of it, but then he just unloaded on me all at once, a bunch of crap about my temper and my work ethic and all this other stuff, like he'd been collecting it for the occasion. I asked him why he was still with me if I was such a gods damned train wreck, and he gave me this look, like he'd just given up trying, and then he just—left. Got himself transferred to mediation, stayed with that idiot friend of his from the L&R department until he got this place. We didn't talk for weeks, not until that factory of Vetiver's blew out and we ended up having to work together."

"Vico told me about that earlier. He said it was bad."

"Yeah, it was. A hundred and thirty-seven people died. Lines all over town were wrecked for weeks. Lot of all nighters just to keep up with repairs. Anyway, I all but begged him to come back, but he wasn't having it. Said we should start over as friends. He didn't mean it though, because I never see him outside work anymore. I've been working my ass off trying to prove I'm not the monumental screwup he and everyone else sees me as, but now he actually wants something from me, and it's just to look after you," Jayen said bitterly. "All that effort and he just accepts the person who left him a complete wreck for months back like it's nothing! He didn't even tell me you were back, I had to bribe it out of my secretary!"

"He probably just didn't want to get in trouble," Seya said. "Wait, if he didn't tell you, then how did Corin know I was staying with him?"

"I don't know, probably guessed. You two were too close for that not to have been an option. "

"Or maybe someone was already watching him."

Jayen slouched a little. "That's possible. Vico's never done anything to be suspicious of, and he works a hell of a lot harder than everyone else, too, but that doesn't mean anything. The high tier still gets worked up about that Sancerre crap. It wasn't as bad when we worked together in security, but now—" He looked away, frustration flickering in his aura. "He won't let me do anything about it."

"If he only joined the clan because you two were together, and then you weren't anymore, it'd make sense for the higher ups to be suspicious, I guess," Seya said, curling her lip in disgust at the idea. She knew exactly how Vico felt about the Sancerre. But he had once felt the same about the Malthusius, too. "How did that even happen? I can't believe Corin would even have allowed it, much less the high tier."

"We still take duel judgments seriously," Jayen said, shooting her an offended scowl.

She looked at him incredulously. "He challenged someone for the right to join?"

"No, he wouldn't have asked to join Malthusius. I was the one who made the challenge."

"You dueled for him to be admitted? Who did you have to fight, the whole damn high tier?"

"Dad."

"And you won?" Seya was impressed despite herself. Corin was no joke as a duelist.

"I wasn't trying to lose," Jayen snapped. "Dad had hardly spoken to me after I brought Vico to live with me at my mother's place. Said I was dishonoring the clan. I would have had to duel him over that anyway, so I thought I might as well try to get something out of it myself. They were going to strip me of my status if I lost and throw me out of the whole damn clan if I lost by too big a margin. Even after they made that the condition, Dad didn't hold back at all."

"What was the margin?"

"It was pretty damn close," Jayen admitted. "Formal rules, but we did it at the compound, not the public arena."

"How long ago was this?" Seya asked.

"Just after I turned eighteen."

"Eight years? That's a little long term for a gambit," she mused. "I would have expected something to happen before now if that was the case. Was there a vote? Who all agreed to the terms?"

"What are you getting at? You think one of our people is trying to start something? We'd know, Seya, Dad takes our bond too seriously to let something like that pass."

"I know how clan politics go. With Vico's history, it'd be easy to use him as a pawn. And bonds don't always work the way they're supposed to," she said, clenching her left hand. "There are ways around the restrictions."

"That's crap," Jayen retorted. "Dad would never have agreed to it if he had thought they were just trying to stage a coup or destabilize the clan."

"You can't be this naive," she said.

"I'm not naive. I know there's a power struggle going on, and I'm still only heir-presumptive, and barely that in the eyes of half the clan, and I have a long road ahead to prove I can manage things. I know there are people on the high tier who'd like to see me fail, so they can get their hands on the power themselves. But they're doing that for the good of the clan, and for Starling. It's only right that I have to prove myself. You've always hated the Malthusius. You let that color your perceptions about us."

"Are you going to blame me for that? I didn't ask to be hounded for half my life by your father just because of this defective mess of magic I was born with. Or harassed by the people in the clan who didn't approve of my bond with Vico, either. "

Jayen’s gaze shifted, his expression flattening with something that felt a bit like shame. "I'll be the first to admit none of us did right by you or him growing up, but we aren't some pack of power-tripping thugs. We survived the restructuring. Our bond is strong, and everything we do is for the good of this town. You can say what you like about me—I know I'm a screwup—but I won't let you talk shit about our people. Things aren't the same now. You'd know that if you'd ever given us half a chance. Dad—he hasn't said anything, but I know he feels bad about what he did the other day.” He fidgeted for a moment, staring at the floor, jaw working. Finally he muttered, with visible reluctance, “You should talk to him at least once."

"Corin is beyond chances for me. And maybe things have changed, maybe they haven't, but either way, you've definitely got a thug problem. Tor was over there at Halcyon harassing Montreides and his foster, so maybe you ought to keep that high-minded opinion of your people down to a realistic level."

"There's one in every group. Tor's an ass. Everyone knows it," he said. "And he was only over there because of you."

"Maybe that day he was, but the way Montreides reacted it seemed like it was a regular occurrence."

Jayen frowned at her. "I gave him a warning yesterday. He's always been a loose cannon, but he's gotten worse lately, I think. Can't have him making us look bad when things are so messy right now. I'll make sure Landen keeps a closer eye on him from now on. You should let me know immediately if he or anyone else comes around harassing you or Vico. I won't stand for that crap—makes us all look bad."

She raised her eyebrows at him. "You almost sound like a grown up when you talk like that."

"I'm not a gods damned kid!"

"And there's the Jayen we all love to hate."

"You said you didn't hate me though."

"Don't take what I said under the influence of pain wards as an endorsement of your character."

His gaze slid away from her, back around the confines of the small apartment. He seemed on the cusp of saying something else, but then he withdrew into himself, brooding.

Seya picked up a book from the end table and flipped through it for a while, not paying much attention to the words, until she finally dozed off.

❀

Vico was glad when they arrived at Bretinne and he had a good excuse to put aside his frustrating tangle of thoughts in favor of something he was sure about. He greeted Cheritt and Kallesian, the co-leaders of the Bretinne Farming Co-op; between them and the three other Talese immigrants who comprised the co-op, they owned a good chunk of farmland north and west of the city, all bought within the last five years from Talbot and the handful of other small clans and private farmers who had been drifting away in the economic upheaval following the restructuring. The Bretinne folk had come on the heels of similar unrest in the Isles, leaving the highly industrialized landscape of Talesanne to get back to their farming roots, and they took the stewardship of the land very seriously. Corin had had hoped that would prove a deterrent to the purists, but instead there had been rumblings against foreigners owning and laying down unfamiliar Isle magics on Caldi soil, since the Talese were not really given overmuch to spiritual magics.

It was a stupid argument, in Vico's opinion. Seya's mother had been a priestess, a caldi, the title given to one who devoted their magic to the maintenance of all Caldona's spiritual resonance, without tying themselves to a single god or temple, and he had learned a great deal about Caldi spirituality from her. He did not have high spiritual levels despite being awakened early to that aspect of his magic, but he had always been good at discerning resonances. The Talese might not be as tuned into spiritual magics as Caldi farmers, but they had made every effort to comply with the traditions of their new home without compromising their own methods. Their land was far from unsettled. None of the priests or government mages who had been out over the various legal setbacks had found anything objectionable either, but this had done nothing to deter the purists' objections.

The factory itself was being built to facilitate the business side of their considerable investment, packaging and preserving the farms' produce, which would then be distributed through Malthusius' business connections. Vico found it hypocritical to say the least that the Bretinne folk had managed to be there, farming and selling for four and half years without objection, until they had been approached to affiliate with Malthusius.

L&R's second crew leader Duvall and the rest of his mages, Lejan included, were already at the factory, preparing for the installation. Micah wandered off to look over the security precautions one more time, since he had nothing to do with the installation or the inspection itself. The inspector arrived a few minutes later, as Vico was going over the spellwork with Duvall, who, in Vico's opinion, was being rather condescending about it, probably because of the difference in their levels. Vico listened dutifully but without much interest, having been over every line of every charm and sigil of the 'works as well as the engineering specs for the machinery in his spare time for the last few months. He was glad when Duvall ceded the duty of attending the inspection to Lejan and went off with the rest of the crew to get back to the installation preparations.

Lejan ended up trailing along behind them, since it became clear early on Vico was not going to have any problem explaining even the most complex details of the spellwork or its implementation in the polarity engines that ran the works to Walsh, even as he was busy translating the more difficult Caldi terminology for Cheritt and Kallesian. Vico had a personal interest in Talese automagic. The power and efficiency of it was fascinating, as much for the intellectual exercise behind such complicated spellwork as the fact that the levels of the mages who created it had less to do with its power than knowledge and ingenuity.

The polarity engines that ran the machinery held his particular enthusiasm. He had made a study of the blueprints and spellwork for them, until he knew every part of it as well as the mages who had designed them, in some cases better than the mages from the L&R department. His enthusiasm as he explained the workings to Walsh was infectious. She was as enthralled by the clever way the deliberately opposing reactions of the polar elements of water and fire created a particularly potent energy to feed the written spellwork that ran the machinery.

"It must be quite dangerous, though," she said.

"It can be, of course, just like any big, complex magic," Vico said. "But there are safeguards written into the 'works to draw off the excess power to route it to the wards around the premises, creating a loop that prevents any energy from escaping. As you can see from the diagrams here, the spellwork will run along this channel in the floor here, the tiles are already etched and waiting to be approved for installation, over here…" They went over the spellwork with meticulous care, and then she looked over the area in the center of the building where the fire elemental was to be seated. That would be installed last. Corin would have to do it himself, as the elemental fire that made up half of the Malthusius' bond seat was too strong and volatile for anyone but the bondmaster to handle. They could have nurtured and seated a new elemental far more easily, but Corin had spent a great deal of time, effort and money on the venture, and preferred to remain in control of the energy he was going to be providing as much as possible.

From there they moved on to the functions of the factory; the cannery was fairly straightforward, the energy connections to run the machinery the only spellwork to verify. The preservatory was more complex. It was a new technique that had not yet taken off in Caldona, though it had become popular in the Isles over the last decade. He and Walsh went over the magic for that in minute detail, Walsh marking down notes about the methods of transferring the properties of the cold charms on the assembly line into the produce in order to keep them fresher for travel than they would even in refrigeration, and it had proven more energy efficient in the long run than the cold-charmed trucks the Bretinne people had been hiring. He had Lejan help demonstrate the casting and effects, since it was a fairly new technique.

"This is extraordinary. I wonder why you bothered with the cannery section at all?" Walsh asked, looking up from where she was verifying the details of the sub clauses and connections of the spellwork against the diagrams.

"The decision was two-fold," Vico said. "Firstly, these sorts of charms can be vulnerable to magical disruptions of certain sorts, the risk of which is negligible in the long term, but can be disruptive in the short term, while canned goods are rather more stable. The other reason is that these sorts of preservatories require a much higher level of involvement in the maintenance of the spellwork, and that reduces eligibility in the workforce. We've seen the issues that arise in other counties when large portions of unbonded workers are left jobless because they do not have the skill set to break into that type of work. Our cannery spellwork has been streamlined to reduce the necessity of higher-level mages but we still needs hands and eyes to keep things running smoothly."

"I wouldn't have expected the Malthusius to care for such trivialities," Walsh commented. Vico gave her a perfunctory smile. It had been a long and tedious argument with the high tier at the beginning of the negotiations, but it was an issue that both Vico and the hard working farmers of Bretinne felt strongly about; the latter had come from a country that was currently suffering the pains of advancing industrialization, and Vico was quite cognizant of just how hard it was to break into the ranks of the advanced mages of a clan even with the requisite skills.

By the time they were done with the works, Walsh had made plenty of notes and Vico had practically talked himself hoarse explaining the finer points of the spellwork. They took a short break for refreshment. Cheritt and Kallesian went upstairs to the office to get the paperwork ready. Walsh lingered by in the break area, sipping iced tea and musing over her notes. "You must have worked closely with the mages to have such a good grasp of these workings, for a mediator."

Vico forced a laugh. "No, actually, I just went over the specs for the last three weeks. I do have a background in written magic, though. From Halcyon."

Walsh's eyebrows went up.

"I've petitioned to be transferred to L&R. It's quite competitive, though," Vico said, keeping his smile and his tone light.

"I expect you'll get there," Lejan said, then turned to Walsh. "He helped me a great deal when I first came to Caldona. The spiritual magic, you know."

Which led to a short conversation about the differences in magic between cultures as Lejan explained the elemental ties the Malachai used instead of bonds in securing their lines. Vico listened with half an ear; he knew all of it already. Eventually Micah rejoined them, and they went to the tables set up in the entrance to discuss the security precautions.

Vico spread out the ward diagrams as Micah explained. "Three layers of wards, in respect to the strength of the spellwork and the energy levels," he said. "Seated in the walls here, of course, and in the concrete paths that circle the lines outside, and then a duel-layered warding for the fences…"

Walsh nodded in approval as she studied the spellwork. Then she went outside so she could check the seat of the wardings herself, her guidebook with all the requirement diagrams firmly in hand.

"Everything is going so smoothly," Vico said, his enthusiasm slowly reasserting itself after that unpleasant blip in the conversation in the break room. "There are only the line connections left, then the paperwork."

"Don't get too relaxed there," Micah said, nodding past him to the entranceway.

Vico turned and gave a quiet groan. Malcolm Weyland stood in the open double doors, surveying the machinery visible from his vantage point with the languid yet predatory interest of a man accustomed to getting what he wanted. He was an attractive man who knew it a little too well, with the toned physique of a duelist, shown off by an impeccably tailored suit. A loop of dueling charms hung around his neck, expensive gems and metals and sparking spheres of elementals, and his mage levels were displayed in his aura far more openly than was considered polite in Caldona. Like Vico, he had the fair Sanne complexion, though without the freckles, and his pale blond hair was pulled back in a short ponytail, which made him look a bit younger than his forty years.

"Gods and unholy spirits, what is he doing here," Vico said under his breath, before slipping into the mild, deferential aura he cultivated for dealing with his more difficult cases and striding over to the doors. "Mr. Weyland. To what do we owe the unexpected honor of your presence?" He said it in Caldi rather than Talese, playing up the faint lilt of his accent, a tactic that served him well with Weyland, who liked the exoticism of it. Vico couldn't make the man take him seriously, but he could be pretend to be charming while Weyland underestimated him. That made it easier to talk him around to things. Malcolm Weyland was no fool, but he did have the same annoying blindspots most high leveled mages revealed when confronted with someone whose levels were not so impressive, regardless of their capabilities.

Weyland's pale blue eyes swept over Vico with lazy admiration as he approached. "Mr. Rhaimes. Every time I see you I can't help but think what a damn shame it is, a young man of your obvious—talents, wasted on one of these backwards Caldi clans."

Micah made a small, disgruntled sound behind Vico at that description.

"I daresay if I can bear it, then you can," Vico said, curving his lips into a small, cool smile with a hint of a challenge, because he knew Weyland liked that too. "Is there something I can do for you this afternoon?"

"I came on the matter of these elemental lines your mages have been working on these last two days. There has been a great deal of interference to my own work. I was hoping I might have a word with you on the subject, see what we couldn't…facilitate. I'd hate to have to file another injunction, have the Elemental Commission out here." He smiled, as if he were offering up some charming conversational interlude instead of a threat.

"That would be unfortunate," Vico agreed. "Especially since the interference is well within acceptable levels." He went to the table and rifled through the papers laid out there, bringing back a sheaf of regulations, and the charts from the work log, which he gave to Weyland. "I doubt Commissioner Monerre would be pleased to be called out on such a trifling issue when she's already so busy."

Weyland looked up from the papers in amusement. "You're always so prepared," he said. "I wish my secretary were this thorough. I don't suppose you've put any thought into my offer."

Vico laughed lightly, as if the offer to run Weyland's errands and put up with his advances every day would somehow be less of an insult to his talents.

"I wonder if you have an objection to my looking over the linework myself, to confirm this?"

"We do have an objection, actually," Micah said. "It's proprietary spellwork, and you are trespassing, Weyland."

Weyland only grinned. Vico nudged Micah through the clan bond.

-don't start a confrontation, he'd love that. he's been wanting a duel with one of ours for ages-

Micah scowled at him.

-he's not clan, or even Caldi, and there's no business shared between Malthusius and Weyland Enterprises, so there's no reason to tolerate his continued interference, especially when he can't be bothered to be subtle about it. if he wants a fight, I'm more than happy to give him one-

-no. just let me handle this, I want him gone before he can waylay Walsh and say something that might upset the inspection-

Weyland had already turned to Lejan with a speculative gleam in his eyes. "Mr. Jacinth, isn't it?"

Lejan gave him a mildly puzzled smiled. "I, er, didn't realize I was so notorious?" Starling had a small but thriving Malachai community, though he was the only one of them numbered among the Malthusius. He did tend to stand out among the other bonded, with his large build, a much darker complexion than even the most southern of the old Caldi, and the braids and beads, and the pale tattoos the ran up his arms, indicating his family status back in his homeland.

"I hear you're contract bonded. That's a little unusual in these parts, isn't it? I didn't expect Malthusius would take to the idea," Weyland said, taking no trouble to hide how thoroughly he was studying Lejan's aura.

"I am." Lejan said. Vico couldn't help a flicker of annoyance on his behalf, even though he knew Lejan was not bothered by the scrutiny. He had adopted the Caldi custom of internal shields, a courtesy toward those of higher spiritualist sensitivity, but in Malacha, as in the Isles, people wore their magic more openly, and neither country cultivated spiritual magic as a rule the way the Caldi did.

"What does Malthusius offer you?" Weyland went on. "The Malachai are known for their directed elementalism, and you've impressive levels. I'd double their offer. Come work for me."

Lejan's eyebrows went up in genuine surprise. Beside him, Micah tensed in outrage. Poaching of bonded was a dueling offense among clans. Vico pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand, laying the other on Micah's arm to hold him back.

"I'm flattered, Mr. Weyland," Lejan said, "but I've signed on with Malthusius, and I'd prefer to honor my contract."

"I'd buy you out, of course." His eyes went appreciatively over Lejan from head to foot and he gave a suggestive smile. "I don't mind saying I rather like the look of you, myself."

Lejan gave a snort of laughter. "That's terribly generous, but I doubt my wife would appreciate your phrasing."

"Is she as easy on the eyes as you? How's her magic? I'm not a particular man by any means. It could be an open invitation."

"Sorry, Mr. Weyland, but I'm really more of a family man type myself," Lejan said easily, lifting his hands in a slight shrug, as if it couldn't be helped.

Weyland shrugged too. "Too bad." His gaze settled back on Vico. He held the papers out to him. "I'm still waiting for my answer, Mr. Rhaimes."

"I'm afraid I haven't the time to give you a tour of the lines today," Vico said. "You'll just have to take my word for it."

"Quite all right. I'm sure Inspector Walsh will be happy to confirm you are operating within the required specifications," Weyland said, looking out to where Walsh was making a circuit of the outside wall.

He looked entirely too intrigued by the prospect of talking to the inspector. That could prove problematic for the results of the inspection. Vico took him by the arm in a much more forward manner than he would have preferred, considering how many times Weyland had propositioned him in their previous dealings. It required a real effort to look up at the man with an appropriately demure tilt to his head, but he could see that he had taken Weyland off guard with the unexpected familiarity, and he wasn't about to give up that advantage. "Have you considered that the interference is due to the limitations of the auto-magic defenses you maintain around your own properties?" he asked conversationally, drawing him outside the door and down the front walk.

"Are you doubting the efficacy of my designs?" Weyland said, with the sort of tolerant amusement of an elder toward a youth. If he noticed he was being pulled in the direction of the gate he didn't show it. "I am quite a good mage, you know."

Vico suppressed an urge to punch the patronizing bastard, instead leveling him an appraising sidelong glance. "I am aware," he said, with a careful suggestion of a smile. "I was only pointing out that Caldi lines are run on spiritual as much as elemental manipulation. I've noted that Talese auto-magic does not offer the same sort of precautions in that aspect as the directed wards we generally use. If you are interested in licensing our proprietary wards for your operations, I can put you in touch with our legal department. An affiliation between our business interests would answer very well, I'm sure."

"Ever the salesman," Weyland said with a laugh. He tried to linger inside the gate, his sharp gaze drifting back to where Walsh stood studying the complex written spell carved into the wall against the pages in her hands, not quite close enough to catch her attention. "You seem rather more up on our automagics than I would have expected. For someone with levels like yours." He looked over Vico's aura with a new, more calculating interest.

"I've been told I'm too observant for my own good," Vico said, though the comment about his levels set his teeth on edge. Like levels had a damn thing to do with written magic.

"Perhaps we could get together at some point and discuss your…observations," Weyland said, letting his eyes drift back to Vico's face. "Over dinner? What are your plans for the rest of the weekend? Surely Master Malthusius doesn't work his mediators without even a Sunday break?"

Vico offered up an apologetic smile. "I'm afraid I have a familial obligation that requires tending this weekend, Mr. Weyland. Why don't you take my card and get back to me about that at some point, maybe next week?" He drew Weyland the last few paces to the sidewalk outside the gate and let go of his arm, producing one of his business cards and holding it out to him between two fingers.

Weyland paused, not annoyed or angry, but still tolerantly amused to realize he had been led out the gate so easily. He reached out to accept the card anyway, standing far closer to Vico than was strictly necessary, and was taken off guard again when Vico withdrew the card from his reaching hand, instead tucking it into the pocket of Weyland's suit coat. Weyland's eyes moved from his hand to Walsh, who was heading back towards the building. "This isn't going to work a second time, you know," he said, his tone mild.

Vico patted the card in his pocket and said, "Maybe next time you'll get luckier, Weyland." The flirtatious smile dropped off his face as soon as his back was turned, and he stepped through the gate. He felt the shiver of the magic as Micah closed the wards behind him. Weyland laughed quietly, but he got in his car and left. Vico rolled his eyes as he made his way back to the factory doors, making a mental note to tell the secretaries in the mediations office not to transfer any calls from Weyland to him directly.

"Were you flirting with that son of a bitch?" Micah demanded.

"What? It got rid of him," Vico said.

Micah regarded him with disapproval. "You should have let me challenge him. We could have made a judgement to keep him from interfering anymore."

"Only if you won," Vico pointed out. Of course clan-born duelist types wouldn't understand the importance of settling an antagonistic overture diplomatically. If they did, being a mediator would not be such a low-status job. "And anyway, he's not Caldi, and duel judgements aren't legally binding anymore. He's not going to fight you for the honor of it. He just wants a victory to lord over Malthusius."

"You're awfully sure I couldn't beat him!"

"I couldn’t begin to say, I've never seen him fight," Vico said. "But he does have a reputation."

"Did he mean it, do you think?" Lejan wondered aloud. “The job offer.”

Micah threw him a revolted look. "You weren't actually considering it!"

"Of course not. I was just wondering what he was angling for."

"Trying to incite a duel so he could distract us from the true nature of his visit. Which was probably to get Walsh's attention and disrupt the inspection," Vico said.

"Asshole," Micah muttered. Vico agreed completely.


	18. Magical Mayhem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m tired but this is HAPPENING so have chapter 18. I don’t think there’s anything to warn for in this chapter, but there is some very nice magical mayhem, enjoy.

They were rejoined shortly by Walsh, and from there the four of them and the Bretinne folk went to look over the elemental line connections. There were three lines, two seated in earth and one in water. The trenches in which they were to be settled had already been dug, and the materials to seat the energy laid out alongside them.

Malthusius' earth-seated lines were run in long bars of stone and metal, which had been fused together with the purifying and melding properties of fire energy. The bars were etched with complex written containments and grounded heavily with wards against tampering. Walsh spent some time examining the spellwork before descending into the ditches with a tape measure to make sure they were being seated at regulation safe depth. Everything was found to be in order. Vico had not expected otherwise. Earth lines were generally stable and reliable and utterly unremarkable.

The water line was a little more complicated. The usual method was to run a channel of water around the property, from which energy could be drawn at the leisure of the mages who would be working there, but the complex automagic spellwork required a stronger and more direct approach. The Malthusius, consulting with a group of Talese mages flown over at Bretinne's request, had drawn on a pipeline from their water plant at the river's edge, a costly investment, as it had required digging up a number of existing pipes and re-warding them for the purpose. The pipes ran around the property in the same formulation the channel would have, but underground, with a series of smaller connections to link the energy of the water directly into the spellwork of the machinery. It was much more efficient, energy-wise, but also dangerous, considering the complexity of the spellwork needed to prevent the risk of an unregulated polarity reaction with the fire energy that would soon be running in close proximity.

The pipes themselves were a metal alloy, specially formulated and warded against corrosion, and like the bars that seated the earth line, etched with the spellwork to maintain the lines and keep the water running, so that the motion and cooling properties of it could be harvested and fed continuously into the workings of the machinery. They lay on the ground next to the trench in which they were to be seated. Walsh studied the spellwork carefully and measured the trench, but puzzled for some time over the problem of the energy levels. The technique was wholly Talese, and ran at a much higher level of energy than the traditional Caldi technique; there were no regulations on the Caldi books that covered it completely. This was the part that had been making Vico the most nervous, and also the reason he'd been willing to put up with a certain amount of bother to get rid of Weyland, who was more familiar with this sort of magic, and who would know exactly what to say to persuade her to put off clearing their operation. If Walsh decided to postpone the installation until it had been vetted by some tedious committee, the costly delay would further risk the affiliation.

Fortunately, he and Duvall's L&R crew were well-versed enough on the specifics of the magic, and they had made a good enough impression on the inspector that she decided in their favor. The only compromise they’d been required to make was a regular check-in report describing the maintenance and stability, which was easy enough to accomplish. The papers were signed, and Walsh took her leave. The Bretinne folk left happy for once. Duvall had his crew start putting in the connections for the lines.

With the papers tucked into a folder in his bag, Vico felt free to call it a victory for himself and leave, but he stuck around to watch the seating of the water line. Duvall grumbled a little, offended by what he perceived as a pointless bit of supervision.

"It's just a professional interest, boss," Lejan said. Vico tossed him a grateful smile, standing back out of the way as the mages worked. The earth lines went in first, since earth-based energies were the most stable. It was simply a matter of shifting the bars into place, fitting them together, securing the connections, then activating the energy. It was routine work, took about an hour, with no problems at all.

Then they began to fit the pipes for the water line, which also went without complication, except for a minor leak in one of the fittings, which was fixed easily enough. Once the water was running through them, the energy was palpable all over the grounds, the humidity suffusing the air unpleasantly in the heat of the late afternoon. They let it run for a half hour, keeping a close eye on the fittings, the way the energy ran through the connections into the machinery. Once satisfied with that, they started filling in the trench. The mages worked in pairs, shifting the displaced dirt back in place over the pipes and settling it firmly in place to lock in the water energy, the gestures of their spellwork brisk and efficient.

Micah was starting to make his impatience known, so Vico waved his goodbyes to Lejan. As he turned to go, he thought he caught something sparking out of the corner of his eye, and stopped, frowning at the pair of mages nearest him, who were moving the dirt into the trench with somewhat less careful gestures than the rest, causing the dirt to fly out in odd directions. He saw the spark again a moment later, from a group further down. Something about the color niggled at him insistently. "Wait just a moment," he said, turning back to get a better look.

"What is it?"

"There's something in the dirt. Looked like elemental charms—they had a reddish spark to it, like a fire charm."

Duvall saw him starting back toward the line and scowled. "Rhaimes, you are not a part of our department, and we don't take orders from mediators. I'm telling you to get the hell out, now."

Vico glanced to Micah for help. "We should probably go," Micah said under his breath.

"You don't think I saw something?"

"I'm sure you did. A bit of broken glass, or a shard of some shiny stone catching the light. If there was something wrong, one of the mages would have sensed something by now."

"I know I saw something. What harm can it do to look into things? After all the trouble we've had over this place—"

"I'm not Jayen, I can't just veto the head of one of the L&R crews. It'll cause problems, and you've got enough of those right now, don't you?"

Vico shot him a look and stalked down past the row of mages and around the curve of the trench to a spot that was not being worked yet. Micah followed him with a sigh.

The pile of dirt excavated for the laying of the pipes was high enough that it obscured them from the view of the mages at work, though not completely. Duvall was scowling at them, but at the moment he was too busy keeping an eye on his group’s spellwork to come throw them out himself. Vico laid his hands on the dirt and reached out with his sense. At first he felt nothing but the slightly disturbed resonance of the churned up earth beneath his fingers, and the warmth of the sunlight that had soaked into it over the course of the day. The trenches had been dug for over a week, so the dirt had settled some, further obscuring anything that might have been buried inside. He rolled up his sleeves and worked his hands into it. It took a minute, but then he felt it, a slight change in the texture of the heat that would have been easy to miss without the physical proximity. His hand closed over something hard and warm. By the time he pulled it out, it had grown too hot to hold onto, and he dropped it with a hiss of pain. It hit a patch of dry grass at his feet and immediately sparked it to flame. Micah gave a shout and reached for his dueling charms, drawing energy from a water charm, which he mixed carefully with a helping of stabilizing stone energy to prevent a polarity reaction as he cast a dampening over the smoldering grass.

Vico knelt and stared down at it, its faint light fading quickly under Micah's dampening spell. There was a hairline crack in the glass that should have been containing the spark of it. "Shit," he said, scooping it up and wrapping a containment around it in case the fire energy resurged. He jumped to his feet and went back to where Duvall stood.

Duvall glared at him. "I thought I told you to get lost, Rhaimes."

Vico held up the charm. "I found this buried in the dirt. I'm pretty sure it's not the only one, either. I know I saw something earlier—"

Duvall turned to Micah. "Callahan, get him out of here. I'm not putting our preparations behind again over some paranoid fantasy. Just because the heir is obsessed with him is no reason to let him walk all over us—"

Vico set his jaw. This disdain was the reason he had been trying to distance himself from Jayen. Not the only one, but the most important one from a tactical standpoint. "I know what I saw, Duvall," he snapped, flinging the charm at him, setting Micah’s barrier spell to dissipate as he did. Duvall fumbled trying to catch it, and it fell on the ground, the grass at Duvall's feet beginning to smoke.

Duvall's expression went from angry to alarmed, and he knelt to pick the charm up, dampening it again and studying the crack in the glass with slowly dawning suspicion. "It doesn't prove anything. Some fool from security could have dropped it carelessly." He did not sound convinced.

"That's not one of our standard issue charms—" Micah began, but he was interrupted by the sharp crack of a polarity reaction from somewhere in the trench behind Duvall.

Micah and Vico grounded themselves and drew up shields immediately, a reflex from working security. Duvall was taken off guard before he could think to do so and was slammed forward onto his face with an inarticulate cry. About thirty feet away, the dissonant energy of the polarity reaction was spreading rapidly, and the mages in its immediate vicinity were all on the ground, some unconscious, many suffering scalds from the dangerous combination of water and fire energy. Only a handful of the mages were still on their feet and able to cast.

"Micah, check Duvall and the other fallen mages," Vico said, and shot past him to where the dissonance was peaking. He was relieved to see that Lejan was among those still on their feet, and beckoned him to help, along with three others: Koenig, Desielle and Ariada. He hoped the five of them would be enough to get the reaction contained before it started to affect the earth lines or cause damage to the spellwork in the factory.

"What the hell is going on?" Lejan asked, drawing up shields as he stared at the space in the trench where the polarity reaction was swirling out of control.

"I found a broken fire charm in the dirt," Vico said. "Can you and Koenig work up something to dispel or contain that dissonance so the rest of us can try to get in there and remove the charm before the reaction damages the pipeline?" He didn't want to think of how much more dangerous the reaction would get if the pipe were to burst, releasing a torrent of actual water. It would probably explode into steam on contact, depending on how much energy was left to the broken charm, possibly cause a chain reaction with more of the fire charms, if indeed there were more.

"We're on it," Lejan said. He and Koenig moved closer to the site of the reaction and started erecting a containment of raw earth energy around the dissonance, siphoning the energy out in chunks and combining it with roughly drawn energy from the dirt and concrete paths around them to settle it.

Vico turned to Desielle and Ariada. "We'll need to channel through the containment Lejan and Koenig are making, get the excess dirt out of the way and grab the charm before it causes damage to the pipe. Once it's out we can sink the remaining water energy into the earth resonance underneath to settle the dissonance." He made a rough diagram of the spellwork in the air for them to follow. "We'll key our spellwork through the bond," he added. That would increase their sense range and improve the cooperative nature of the spellwork they would need to find the charm that had started the reaction.

"Why are we listening to him?" Ariada demanded of Desielle. "He's not even with our department!"

"Because he's the one who stepped up," Lejan said over his shoulder. "Duvall's in no shape to be doing it and our crew is down by two thirds. And he knows this stuff inside and out."

Desielle shrugged. "He's got the spellwork right," she said, and tuned into the clan bond. Ariada followed suit, grumbling a little, but she cast as he directed.

"On my mark," Vico said, extending their combined sense out to the dissonance. He could feel the heavy, muggy heat of the energy suffusing the air even through his shields. It was starting to calm under Lejan and Koenig's manipulations, but it was still dangerous.

Lejan and Koenig opened careful, vented channels in the containment and Vico directed the mages' spellwork through to shift the dirt back out with slow, cautious gestures, until the spark of a charm was uncovered.

"Too far away from the pipe to have been the one that set it off," Vico said grimly, as Desielle and Ariada formed a small barrier around it and drew it out.

They continued, uncovering another charm before they located the one that had set off the reaction. It lay beneath the curve of the pipe, and the metal/stone alloy was turning black already from exposure the the heat of the energy it was leaking. The carefully etched spellwork on the pipe was slightly warped by the reaction, but it looked to be holding. Desielle and Ariada drew it out in the same way as the first, allowing Lejan and Koenig to calm the rest of the dissonance by combining the water energy into the stabilizing ground below. Vico dropped down into the trench to examine the damage while the other mages went around to check on the injured parties and dispel the remaining dissonance lingering in the air.

Duvall was fine, having been knocked only briefly unconscious, and he chose to remain on site to keep an eye on things. The two mages who had been working closest to the reaction had been badly burned and another had fallen into the trench and broken her arm. Those three were taken immediately to the compound to be looked over by healers. A pair of healers remained to treat the rest of the injured, and first crew, under the grim eye of Chief Mage Madderly, head of the L&R department, was also dispatched to aid with the repairs. When Duvall was declared fit for work, he and Vico and Madderly spent some time going over the damage and arranging for first crew to unbury the parts of the trench that had already been covered.

"It's definitely going to cause another delay," Duvall said. Vico was not looking forward to informing the Bretinne folk of this latest incident. The written spellwork on the pipe had held, but the damage ensured that the whole section would need replacing, which meant rolling back all the applied spellwork they had spent the last hour casting and shutting off the water to drain the pipes. There was also another polarity reaction while they were unburying the line, though this one was less damaging, as they had taken precautions.

"And we're going to have to have a team of mages settle the resonances of the property before we can start the repairs, too," Madderly growled as she and Micah prowled the perimeter, searching for traces of whomever might have buried the dozens of faulty fire charms they had uncovered excavating the pipes. First crew was still sifting through the dirt to make sure they had gotten them all.

"What was even the point?" Lejan wondered after he and Vico had made a full report of the damages. "The way they were just thrown around didn't leave any assurance that there would be a reaction. The fact that there was one at all was sheer luck, and it wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been. Whoever did this must have known the earth energy would mask and mute the fire energy."

"I suspect it was meant to disrupt the resonances during the inspection," Vico said. "To make us look negligent, or perhaps just to reduce the efficiency of the spellwork. The damage could be an unexpected bonus. It must have been done after you took the traces Tuesday morning, since Walsh accepted those instead of having us do new ones today. The change wasn't apparent while we were out looking things over, probably because it was so hot today that it covered the energy. I think I would have noticed if the readings in the trace were higher than normal. I'm going to look it over again just to be sure, though."

"Clearly we were negligent," Micah said. "I'm coordinating with the heads of the crews who were responsible for keeping this place secure now." He scowled into the distance, tuned into the bond with Landen and Ardesayne, head of security's second shift day crew. "I'm going to have to bring Jayen in on this. Were you done here?"

"Pretty much. Lejan, can you make the new traces for my report?"

"Sure," Lejan said.

As they were walking back the car, Duvall caught up to them. Vico sighed, expecting a torrent of abuse for interfering, and for daring to be right about it, but the man held out a hand to him. "Your quick wits kept this from getting out of hand," Duvall said. "Thanks for your help."

"You're quite welcome," Vico said, almost too surprised to accept the outstretched hand.

"Your grasp of the spellwork involved here was impressive," Duvall added. "I didn't realize you were so up on all this."

"Just doing my job," Vico said, watching him walk back to the cluster of mages working around the trenches. He turned back to Micah. "I'm not hallucinating, am I? Didn't get my brain scrambled by the polarity reaction?"

"I guess you impressed him," Micah said. "Or maybe he's just hoping you won't report them for not listening to you in the first place."

"That's probably it," Vico said, though Duvall's gratitude had felt genuine enough. It was such a rare occurrence that Vico could not simply be happy at the thought, only unsettled.

❀

Seya had dozed fitfully all evening, and it wasn't until Jayen started getting up every few minutes to look out the window with a mixture of anxiety and nerves that she realized how late it was getting. It was full dark out by the time Vico got home.

"You said a few hours, what kept you?" Jayen said, blinking at the sight of him. Vico was all over sweat and dust and mud. "Did it not go as planned?"

"Does it ever?" Vico said. He dropped his bag on the floor in an atypically careless gesture and raked his fingers through his hair, grimacing as his hand came out streaked with dirt. "Micah will fill you in. It's a mess, that's all I'm going to say right now."

"I thought you were just mediating," Seya said, sitting up from where she had been dozing lightly on the couch. He was exhausted, and there was tangle of disturbed resonances and elemental dissonance still clinging to his aura. Anger and frustration too, but he was already tucking it all away behind his shields as he headed for his bedroom.

"Shit happens. You know how it goes,” he said, waving a hand in weary dismissal. “I was really expecting you guys to be shouting the house down when I got back, at the very least. Dare I hope you were actually getting along, or did you both just sulk like the stubborn brats you are the whole time?"

"We had a nice talk," Seya said. "About you."

"Why does that sound far more terrifying than anything I was imagining?" Vico asked. "Gods, I'm tired. And starving. I'm jumping in the shower. Thanks for coming over, Jayen. You should go now. Micah is waiting to talk to you."

"Why don't you just throw me out the door," Jayen muttered.

"Why don't you think about the people who’ve been sitting outside the door all evening? They're probably tired too."

"They get paid for that."

Vico shook his head. "Do whatever you want then, you always do anyway," he said, and shut the bedroom door behind him.

Jayen huffed irritably, but by then someone had pinged him through the clan bond. He listened for a few minutes, his forehead wrinkling in consternation. He got up and went into the kitchen. "Where were those leftovers he was talking about?"

"Top shelf in the fridge," Seya said.

"You want some?"

"No."

He warmed up a plate and left it on the stove for Vico. "Tell him goodbye for me," he said. Seya blinked up at him in surprise, but he was closing the door behind himself before she could reply.

Vico wandered back out of his room a few minutes later, flicking water out of his hair and casting a bemused eye over the living area and kitchen. "Jayen actually left?"

"He did."

He caught sight of the plate on the stove and smiled. "You didn't have to do that."

"I didn't," Seya said.

He absorbed that information in silence, and whatever he felt about it he kept to himself. Seya was tempted to reach out, just to know, but she didn't want to do anything to open up their bond more. Tomorrow, she thought, as she lay awake on the couch that night, too restless to get to sleep. It had to be tomorrow. Even if the curse wasn't fully neutralized; she would find a way to manage.


	19. Reminiscences and a Broken Promise

**Reminiscences and a Broken Promise**

Jayen arrived promptly at seven forty-five to ferry Seya and Vico to the Halcyon clinic for her checkup the next morning. Vico was prepared to fend off his attempts at flirtation, as he had since that day in the Mediations office—Jayen was nothing if not persistent—but he was in almost constant communication with the security detail at Bretinne. It was…rather disappointing, actually, even though Vico had been the one trying to maintain some distance. He shook his head, exasperated at his own weakness.

Aren grumbled about opening up the clinic just for Seya on a Sunday, but it was half-hearted ire. He was pleased with her progress. "I was sure you'd end up in another fight, being stuck with the two of them," he said, prodding at her shoulder.

"Jayen and I aren't together," Vico said from where he was standing in the doorway, eyes politely averted. "Though I did ask him to look after her yesterday while I was working."

Aren eyed him curiously. "Not together? Well, I had heard—but then you two kept showing up together… I suppose that makes more sense than the two of you sharing an apartment on Jack Street, of all places. I had wondered about that."

"Where's Kaya?" Vico asked, to change the subject before he could ask about it.

"Temple," Aren said. "Amanarre, over on Brook Street."

"I thought she was a bit too foreign to be devoted any of our extensive pantheon."

"They don't have a god at Amanarre, just a sacred tree spirit. It's not so much devotion as the fact that we have friends there. And you're one to talk about looking foreign," Aren said, favoring his vibrant hair with a meaning eye. It was an uncommon color even here, where Talese immigrant presence was highest in Caldona.

"And you will note that I have not been to a temple since the age of ten," Vico said.

"Because of Seya." Aren made a disgusted sound in his throat. "Kaya's mother is a refugee from the southern Arisi territories, and her father's from Talesinth, where she grew up, though she's spent most of her adulthood here. We met in Zinthia. I took my residency there, and she came here with me afterwards to help restart the clinic."

"Are you almost done?" Seya asked with exaggerated patience.

"Yes, yes. The curse is no longer in such danger of rebounding at simple provocations, but you should still refrain from using your magic—you need to save your energy for the physical healing that remains. I've renewed the spellwork for that, but any reckless casting could speed its dissipation. Providing you can remember that very important detail, you should be fine on your own for the next few days. I wouldn't want your precious bond brother to be kept away from his job being a mouthpiece for the most power-mad man in town."

"I _can_ hear you out here!" Jayen barked from the waiting room.

No one paid him any mind. Seya gave a sigh of relief. Vico was somewhat less pleased by the pronouncement. He hadn’t missed how restless she was, or how carefully she was maintaining what shields she could manage. Her continued refusal to have anything to do their bond was starting to make him downright anxious. He was afraid she was more upset about his thoughtless prying than she was letting on, though she still had not said anything about it. He was starting to wonder if he ought to be the one bringing it up. Apologize again, perhaps.

"I still want to see her again this afternoon just to be sure, but the risk is negligible at this point," Aren went on. "As long as she stays away from dangerous magic and violent family members, anyway." Seya shot him a scowl. "Let's say four o'clock?"

"That's good news," Jayen said as they got in the car. "We have to go back to the Bretinne site. You need to talk to the members of the co-op. Micah says they're pissed as hell and talking about dissolving the affiliation. Also, apparently the news about the damage got out and there are people out there protesting the Talese magic as dangerous. Those fucking purists, of course."

"Of course," Vico muttered, but he wasn't at all surprised. "Fine. Let's drop Seya off at my place first."

"I can walk back on my own," Seya said. "Just give me the key."

"No, we'll take you, it's barely out of the way," Vico said. "You might be in danger walking around alone."

"That's ridiculous, Vico. I told you Jayen was the target."

"Most likely because he's Corin's _son_ , Seya."

She shot him a fierce look. "Then I'm good, aren't I, since I'm not his son."

"We still don't know who was behind the assassination attempt. And whether you want to acknowledge the facts—"

"Vico, I swear to all the gods and spirits," she began.

"—you are considered linked to the Malthusius, so you could end up a target yourself," he finished.

Seya rolled her eyes and got out of the car.

"Damn it, Seya, get back in the car!" Vico snapped, flinging the passenger door open and climbing out himself.

"No, I want to walk. It'll do me good after being cooped up for days on end. I'll be fine. It's not like anyone can sneak up on me. I've been looking after myself just fine for the last decade, I think I can manage to walk a few blocks across town on a quiet Sunday morning."

Vico's eyes dropped briefly to her gloved hand, but he did not bring up the obvious untruth in her declaration. He did not need to. She set her lips into a grim line and stared right back at him until he looked away. She wasn't going to relent, he knew. If she had been the type to sit quietly behind walls and wards, letting things happen around her, they would both have had a very different childhoods.

Probably his would have been much shorter.

Maybe if he let her have this small freedom it would calm that restless energy he’d sensed seeping out through her patchy defenses. "At least promise you'll go straight back and stay there," he said. "I'll come pick you up for your appointment."

"Sure, fine."

He went after her and grabbed her by her shoulders so she wouldn't be able to lie. "Promise, Seya."

"I promise! Fire and water, just go do your damn job already!"

He wasn't entirely satisfied, but he handed over his key and left.

❀

Seya dragged her feet all the way up the street. Here was a perfect opportunity to get away clean, without the fight she knew would precede a more official parting, and part of her wanted very badly to take it, get as far away as possible before he was finished with his work. But she had promised. She wasn't sure he wouldn't come after her, and that would surely disrupt his attempts to keep his place within the Malthusius.

She settled on deliberately taking a somewhat meandering route back, to look over the changes to the town. She had been too distracted looking for dissonant magic to pay much attention to them before. There were plenty of things that had changed, but she was amused to find the sweets shop she had been banned from when she was twelve years old was still in business, and the same grumpy man still sat behind the counter, looking grayer and grumpier than ever. He eyed her suspiciously as she paused in the big front window, but without recognition. Her smile faded as she noted the Malthusius mark shimmering over his door. That was definitely new.

On a whim, she turned up the road in the direction of the apartment building she had lived in with her parents until she was fourteen. The corner grocery she had frequented with her mother and Ian as a child had been renovated and expanded, and the sign wore a different name and logo from the one she remembered. The empty lots where she and Vico and their other friends had played and practiced magic and fought were given over to respectable homes with nice yards and homey resonances. She was beset by a heady mix of nostalgia and regret as she counted each change.

The small park near her old home had been replaced by a war memorial. Her eyes were drawn almost against her will to the granite block inscribed with the names of those killed in the fighting in Starling County. Her mother's name wouldn't be on it—anyone involved with the Uprisers would be excluded. The fact that her mother had been killed by them in that very park meant nothing. She was far from the only victim of that prejudice; Seya’s chest ached for all the innocents who’d been killed or reduced to mindless puppets simply for believing in a cause that had been usurped by a monster who had valued his ambitions more than human lives.

The priests would have cleared all the negative resonance from the place before allowing the park to be opened back up, and it had been ten years besides, but Seya still averted her eyes and kept a tight grip on her shields as she passed by. It was some time before she was able to breathe properly again through the onslaught of memories.

Old man Talbot's apartment complex used to be half a mile up the road from the park. It had been only a couple rungs up the ladder from the slums on the south edge of town when she had lived there as a child, a minor blight on an otherwise reasonably respectable area of the city. She had not been surprised to hear from Vico that it had been demolished after the Talbots' dissolution, but that did not lessen the impact of seeing a clan compound where her childhood home had been. The name over the gate was Albrecht, the whole street was bathed in the traces of their clan magic, a dense combination of stone and metal and a hint of heavy air, which carried the resonances of the clan bond's energy out much further than normal. It felt—disagreeable, as if someone had deliberately left out a clause of the spellwork that would have dealt with the polarity reaction of the two elements. Earth and air wasn't nearly as volatile a combination as fire and water tended to be, but it still grated. She thought it might have been deliberate, part of the overwhelming sense of intimidation that permeated their bond magic. She wasn't surprised they hadn't made it official; surely that kind of resonance would bring questions if brought before the Bond Authority.

Seya didn't linger. The last thing she needed was to get involved in a stupid territorial dispute. She did take a good, long look at the sigil over the name, trying to remember the places where she had seen it displayed. She made a mental note to ask Vico more about them, then remembered it didn't matter: she wasn't staying. She picked up her pace a little as she left, thinking more seriously about Vico's apprehension. She didn't believe for a minute that she was a target—if whoever was trying to upset Malthusius knew anything about her at all, they'd try to recruit her first, she was sure—but she wanted to put as much distance between herself and that jarring blend of bad memories and ominous resonance as possible.

She surfaced from her bleak reminisces some minutes later to realize her detour had brought her close to a temple street—Erienne, seat of a minor but locally popular water god, seated in a natural spring on the southwest corner of the city center. She could see the tall trees that covered the temple grounds from where she stood, and feel the light, cool essence of the spring permeating the air, and the curious weight that heralded the nearness of a spirit of ancient provenance. It was a busy place on a Sunday morning, with families traveling to and from the place bearing offerings or carrying away the heady blessings received from the members of its priesthood. With her defenses still recovering from the curse, the last thing she wanted was to be anywhere near a god's spiritual resonance. Or possibly get noticed by one. All that power—she gave a shudder and turned herself in the direction of Vico's apartment, working at her shields as she went. The extended detour had made her strikingly aware of how she'd neglected them, and thankful for Vico's scrupulous consideration of her current, somewhat defenseless state.

Her progress was slow as she studied the differences in the resonances of the various streets she had missed her first day back. The traffic was also heavy as she passed through the shopping district just off the square, the market and the small cafes and bakeries overflowing on the lazy weekend morning, which slowed her further. Even on her best days, crowds made her nervous of being bumped and jostled, and there was always the threat of accidentally catching people who had enough spiritual sense to really notice her. With her shields so thin and unreliable now, and her sense open to the prospect of dissonance and the danger of being followed, it was even less appealing.

She truly did mean to head back to the apartment, though she had not yet decided what to do once she got there. But she'd only gone a few blocks when she felt a familiar, slightly dissonant aura intruding amongst all the unremarkable, unfamiliar ones, and looked up to see the little pickpocket from the marketplace dart across the road about twenty yards ahead of her. She was partially cloaked in a written ward Seya remembered from her own wayward youth, one which was meant to allow the caster to pass without notice as long as they did not speak, or touch anyone. It had been written with an inexpert hand, and dissipated through use as well, leaving holes in the protection, though Seya still might have missed it if she hadn't been looking so hard at the faint threads of dissonance around her.

Seya had not been able to use something as weak as a written ward to cover her own presence since she had come into her elemental levels—they tended to dissipate rather too quickly on direct contact with her magic. This was not a problem for a child with normal levels for her age, and the ward, shoddy as it was, seemed to be working well enough for the girl's purposes. She wove deftly through the crowd, and then with a burst of speed, crashed right into a man leaning over a newspaper dispenser, sorting through a handful of coins to feed into it. He gave an angry exclamation, but the girl vanished into the crowd long before he realized his wallet was missing. His fellow pedestrians went right on by without much notice of the incident. Seya followed at a discreet distance, a frown tugging at her lips.

The girl repeated the performance twice more. By the third time the ward had worn almost to nothing, and when she snatched a woman's purse, she was unlucky enough to attract the attention of a guard officer as well as her victim. Between the woman and the officer shouting, it wasn't long before the entire block noticed what was going on. The girl fled, ducking through the cars parked along the road and into an alley.

Seya walked past the ruckus of the chase with an air of unconcern. Of course the girl was nowhere to be seen by the time the officer reached the alley. Seya circled the block, following the faint threads of her presence that remained. It led her several blocks on, into the warehouse district, where she lost the trail amid the heavy protections laid on the huge, blocky buildings that rose up along the streets like the walls of some great, forbidding canyon. She hesitated briefly at the intrusively strong wards and deep shadows, but everything was so quiet and still on the sleepy Sunday morning she had trouble imagining any great threat to be found there, and resumed her search, darting along until she spotted a dark, curly head bobbing into the space between two warehouses. Walking lightly, Seya stepped around industrial debris and avoided the threads of a piece of trashed spellwork that had not been properly unraveled. The girl was crouched in the shadows of a pair of rusty garbage bins, preoccupied by the task of emptying the contents of two wallets and the rather small purse into her pockets.

"Not much of a haul, is it?" Seya commented.

The girl jumped and her hand came up with a hasty defensive spell, which rebounded the second she released it, exactly the same as the one in the marketplace had done. It was an old spell, simple—the sort of thing taught to newly-wakened students as a matter of course; bright and flashy but incapable of causing permanent damage—but the level of power behind it was pretty impressive for a girl her age, even if it was poorly cast.

"Who taught you magic, kid?" Seya asked, catching her by the sleeve of her shirt. She wanted to have a closer look at the spellwork, but it dissipated as she struggled to maintain her grip on the sputtering, furious child without actually touching her.

"You again! What are you, like, stalking me? Gonna call the guard again?"

"I didn't call the guard on you the first time. You're just really bad at this."

"Sh-shut up!" She swung the purse in her hand at Seya, who caught it easily and deposited it into the trash bin. Her grip on the girl's sleeve slipped, and she tried to bolt, but Seya managed to grab her by the back of her shirt before she got away.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, I just want to talk," she said, and then froze in shock as she registered the traces of a coercion wound into the girl's aura.

"Stop it, leave me alone!" the girl shrieked, swiping ineffectually at her. Her anger and panic stung, but Seya did not let go, instead sinking her sense into the coercion. It was not a bonded coercion, thank the gods, just a block on her ability to use her spiritual magic, but it was laced through with such deliberate malice that it sent Seya straight into a quivering, nauseous rage. She didn't stop to think, just wound her sense around the threads of it and jerked it out. It burned at her with such intensity she had to let go of the girl to contain it.

"Ow! What are you doing to me!" the girl cried. Realizing she was free, she spun to glare at Seya, and her eyes widened when she saw the remains of the coercion sparking viciously between her hands. Her eyes got wider as she took in the fact that her magic was no longer suppressed. "What—what did you do? What is that?"

"It's called a coercion," Seya said, crushing the energy out with an angry gesture. The scars on her left hand ached with the fading resonance of it. "Someone didn't want you using your magic. Who put it on you?"

The girl eyed her warily, backing away. "You just want to take me to the guard."

"I'm not taking you to the guard. I sure as hell don't want them on my back."

That got her attention. "What are you, one of those recruiters?"

"Recruiters? You mean for a clan? That's illegal, you're too young. A kid your age can't consent to a bond."

The girl scoffed. "Like it really works that way."

"Yeah, it's a messy, screwed up world, but this isn't the way to get by."

"What am I supposed to do? No one's gonna help someone like me."

The certainty behind her words made Seya's heart ache. "That's not true, you know."

"I do know! Why do you even care, you don't know me at all!"

"I care because looking at you is like looking at myself. Look, I don't want to make you do anything, but take it from someone who's been in a similar situation. It just gets worse from here. If you don't let someone help you, you'll never get out of this." She waved her hand around at the grungy alley.

Tears glittered in the girl's eyes. "Right, and just who am I supposed to ask?"

Seya sighed. "I may know some people."

"Like who? Some clan head? Social workers? They didn't help me before. Why should I trust you, anyway? You know how much trouble I got onto for getting caught the other day? That guy at the market could have afforded to lose his wallet once or twice."

"That guy would probably have given you everything in his wallet if you had asked," Seya said.

"Yeah, right!"

Seya shrugged helplessly. "Whatever, all right? Just listen for two more seconds. My name is Seya, and I'm staying at the Windack Apartments on Jack Street if you change your mind. Apartment three twenty-two."

"And what would you do for me?" Her tone was sarcastic, but there was something tragically hopeful flickering in her aura.

"Feed you and throw you in a bath for starters," Seya said. "Maybe have a healer look over you." She remembered Zan giving his card to the guard officer and added, "Set you up at a school. Your magic isn't bad, you don't have to be a thief or a delinquent or a runaway or whatever."

"I don't have any money for a school." She was backing way again.

"What's your name?" Seya asked.

"Why, so you can put out a report on me?"

"No, because I hated being called 'kid' when I was a kid."

"Whatever. Just leave me alone." She spun around and darted out of the alley.

Seya debated trying to catch her, and decided that would be counter-productive when she was already so spooked. She gave a sigh and made her way back to the apartment feeling deeply unsettled, as if she’d forgotten something important. As she was climbing the steps, it occurred to her that the kid was probably going to get in trouble with whoever had laid that coercion on her when they noticed it was gone. "I'm such a gods damned idiot," she groaned, and went pounding back down the steps even though it was obviously far too late to go back and find her.

❀

Jayen scowled at the series of trace images glimmering up from the memory charms that were laid out across a table in the entryway of the Bretinne factory. The traces marked the patterns of the energy on the factory grounds as recorded by the first crew mages the day before, and as a way of aiding his investigation, they were spectacularly unhelpful.

Across the table, Rena, who possessed the highest spiritual levels on his crew, shook her head. "Sorry, boss, but I'm not reading anything that might say who could've done this. Maybe I should go have another look outside?"

Jayen waved her out the door. Micah looked up from his examination of the fire charms. They were all of different makes and brands, most of them obvious defects, probably pilfered from the discard piles at various charm manufactories for the purpose. A few had been deliberately broken, and to those, they paid particular attention, but found no aural traces on them. Whoever had handled them knew what they were doing. Vico had managed to confirm that they could not have been there before the traces Lejan had taken, and Jayen had sent a few of his crew out to canvass the area, though he did not hold much hope they'd find anyone willing or able to tell them anything useful.

Cheritt had headed straight for him on his arrival, demanding to know in loud, angry tones how anyone had managed to get past the security measures, before Vico drew her and the other Bretinne folk to the offices overlooking the factory floor to discuss the issue.

Jayen would have liked too know that himself. There had been evidence of dissipation in the spellwork when he went over the wards the night before. Madderly had made traces to determine just how long they had been neglected, and he was waiting for her to finish analyzing them. A list of everyone who had been on duty the last six days was sitting on the table next to the file he'd started on the incident, but so far all he had were a great number of facts and no real evidence to point him in a clear direction.

And he was seeing those strange flashes out of the corner of his eye again. They had gone away after a few hours the last time, but he felt like they were encroaching more on his vision now. Not obstructing it, exactly, he could still see perfectly well. The bright edges to everything were just distracting. Damn it, he hated going to the healers. He rubbed at his eyes and grumbled to himself, "What the hell is going on around here?"

"Sabotage," Micah said.

"Thank you for that sterling observation, Micah, but I meant how did they manage without leaving any traces at all, and why?"

"I don't know how they did it, but the why seems pretty clear. They wanted to disrupt the affiliation in an effort to hit us financially."

"Yes, but why? Why the sneaking around? Doing it this way won't give them any advantages. They'd lose everything to us if it came out. "

"They don't think they will be found out, obviously. So we'll take them for everything when we get them anyway. You're worrying too much about this."

"We're going to lose a lot of money and the affiliation, which isn't going to make us look good to any future allies. Of course I'm worried," Jayen said. "What part of this doesn't worry you?"

Micah was saved having to answer that by the Bretinne people filing down the stairs from the office and through the foyer on their way out. Cheritt was still angry, storming out ahead of the other four, refusing to even glance at Jayen. Vico trailed behind them, murmuring polite assurances in Talese. He saw them out the gate and through the group of protestors, then came back inside, flopping down in one of the empty chairs around the impromptu work station.

"Well?" Jayen asked.

"Well, it depends on what Corin is willing to offer them now," Vico said. "They have _demands_. There's going to be a meeting tomorrow. Cheritt is ready to burn everything down, but the others talked her into one more day of negotiations." He scrubbed a hand over his face in frustration.

"Just so you know, Marten is talking about throwing you out of Mediations if they bail on us," Micah said without looking up from his work.

"Yes, because it's absolutely my fault the water line was sabotaged," Vico said, sitting up and flinging his arms out in a wide, sarcastic shrug. "Obviously I should have been out here every night protecting the Malthusius interests personally."

"That's not going to happen," Jayen said. "And even if it does—"

"If you tell me I can come back to the security department again I'm going to drag you into the circle myself."

"Is that all it would take? You can come back to the security department, Vico."

Vico gave an exasperated sigh. "I should have known you'd take that the wrong way."

"And now you owe me a duel," Jayen said.

"Is that what you want? Three rounds in the circle?" He wasn't looking at Jayen. His eyes drifted over to the traces and he stood to study them closer.

"You know that's not what I want," Jayen said. "But I'm willing to settle for three rounds of your undivided attention. For now."

"While I kick your ass in front of your crew?" The idea gave Jayen a bit of a jolt. There was a reason he didn't fight with Vico in public, even for practice. He couldn't ask Vico to hold back just to protect Jayen's reputation in front of his clan, and Jayen's own pride wouldn't have wanted him to either, even if it looked bad when he lost against someone with elemental levels so much lower than his. It didn't matter whether people though he was losing honestly, or holding back out of affection, or that between Vico's higher spiritual levels and clear-headed tactical approach they were a fairly even match, or that they had been dueling each other for fifteen years—long enough that they didn't even see it as a competition anymore. It was just a matter of who broke concentration first, or who ran their charms out of energy sooner.

Or, often as not, who decided they were done playing around and wanted to drag the other off for an entirely different variety of exertion. Which was what Jayen was thinking about as he cast an unsubtly appreciative eye over Vico's slim profile as he stood to move closer to the table. "You talk like winning is foreordained," Jayen said. "Maybe we should make a wager on the outcome." He lowered his voice and leaned toward Vico. "I can think of a few things I'd like from you."

Vico regarded him with a dry smile. "I'm sure."

Micah cleared his throat loudly. Jayen shot him an impatient look. He been so hopeful after that almost flirtatious interlude from the Mediations office three days before, but Vico kept sidestepping his overtures. Jayen didn't like the deliberate distance he was keeping between them now.

"Has there been any progress?" Vico asked, waving at the traces. "I'm not seeing anything new here."

"Nothing," Jayen said. "It's downright bizarre how well they've obscured the traces. First crew is supposed to look them over cooperatively tonight after we're done clearing the site, see if they can't uncover something useful." He moved a little closer to Vico and looked over the traces again. Someone had marked out the lines of the spiritual energy for him, since he had trouble discerning them on his own. They had done a good job of it this time; much clearer than usual, even with the strange brightness flickering through them. It seemed stronger when he focused on the lines of the trace. He squinted, frowning when they didn't go away. From the corner of his eye he caught the sharp look Vico shot him.

"It could be self-sabotage," Micah said. "Cheritt was never happy with all this."

"I don't think she'd go so far as to sabotage anything," Vico said. "For all her sharp tongue and argumentative personality, she wouldn't risk losing her farm playing games. She knows that breaking the affiliation would cause us all the trouble she could hope for. She's just angry now, I think mostly for letting the others talk her into this. No, if you're stuck for a lead, I think you should start with Miredes."

"Miredes? Do you have a particular reason for that?" Micah asked.

"Only that he's been linked to those idiots out at the gates right now," Vico said. "I had a good look over them while I was seeing the Bretinne people out, and I recognized a couple of faces from the trouble we had with him last week. Let me look over the files from your investigation, see if we can't dig up something concrete."

"All right, after we've wrapped up here," Jayen said.

"Rena is pinging me," Micah said. "She wants the barrier traces. I'll be right back." He deactivated two of the memory charms and carried them outside, leaving Jayen and Vico only the traces from the water line to look at. Jayen shifted closer, until their shoulders were brushing together.

Vico gave him a cool look. "You could make the image larger if it's that hard to see."

"But then I wouldn't have an excuse to get this close, would I?" Jayen said.

Vico elbowed him in the ribs. "You're impinging on my auric space," he said. "Very rude."

"But you aren't moving away, are you?"

"Why would I give ground to the opposition when there's no tactical advantage? You ought to know me better than that, Young Master."

Jayen grimaced. "Don't call me that."

"It is literally your title."

"Yeah, but I don't want to hear it out of _your_ mouth," Jayen said. It reminded him uncomfortably that if the Sancerre still existed as a clan, Vico would likely have inherited the same title. Jayen wondered, not for the first time, what it would have been like to have known him as someone of equal status. From what he knew of the Sancerre, he was sure they still would have started as enemies, but their rivalry would probably have been much more vicious. They were already a fair enough match in the circle, but Jayen suspected that with the weight of the Sancerre bond to elevate his levels and the full resources of a clan at his back, Vico would have been a formidable opponent outside it too. It wasn't an easy thought, not when Jayen remembered some of the crap he had pulled as an arrogant young heir himself. He didn't have any trouble picturing Vico as a coldblooded, calculating tactician, steadily chipping away at Malthusius' primacy over the town. Hell, he'd probably be running the Sancerre himself by now.

There would certainly have been no chance at all of Vico standing next to him now, eyes the color of frosted moss flicking over his face with that provocative sidelong look he did so well, the corner of his lips tugging up in a faint, soft smile that he schooled away almost immediately. His eyes did drift back to the trace image, his expression settling back into seriousness, but he didn't move away, and the silence that fell felt almost… companionable. Jayen let himself pretend, for just a moment, that they were working together as if the last year had not happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am trying, really I am, it’s just that my brain is slow to adapt to my new schedule. 
> 
> No content warnings in this one, I don’t think?


	20. In the Wind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a day late this week! I’m improving! 
> 
> Trigger warning for verbal abuse in the second half of this chapter. Corin will insist on being an asshole to everyone.

**In the Wind**

"What about the assassination attempt?" Vico asked. "Any leads on that?"

"Nothing new," Jayen said. "No traces, or at least none that could be read out."

"I think these two incidents are connected. It seems like too much of a coincidence that they both lack traces so completely."

"I thought of that earlier," Jayen said. "There's nothing else to link them, though. I've got my best mages looking it up, in case it's some new thing we haven't heard of yet, and I'll be comparing the traces from both incidents later when I get back to the office."

"I haven't read about anything that could obliterate traces so completely. Maybe if we could find someone with high spiritualist level sense to look over the place," Vico mused.

"Who, though? The only registered high spiritualist in town is the head priest at Heirond, and he wouldn't exactly be thrilled to help us. Not after the way Dad started in on him at the last City Hall meeting."

"I was thinking more along the lines of asking Seya. She'll be cleared in a couple more days," Vico said.

"Would she do it, though? And won't that be too long to let things sit, with the Bretinne people being so impatient?"

"Maybe," Vico said. "If the two incidents are linked, and she thinks she could help find the people who kept trying to kill you, she might not refuse outright. And…maybe. I might be able to talk them into waiting if I can find a good excuse. Something about the investigation, perhaps. It would help if we had a someone to point a finger at." He leaned forward and enlarged another portion of the trace image. "The canvassing didn't yield any information, I guess?"

"We found some kids who saw a car at the park around the same time as the attack, but the description was too general—no make or numbers, no driver or passengers or other pedestrians. The level of care that went into this thing is frankly unnerving in retrospect. They must have been watching me for a while. I don't understand how they could have been hiding so well. Did Seya say anything about it?"

"No, but she was distracted. There's something going on with her but she won't talk to me about it."

"Maybe she was the target, and she was lying when she said it was me."

"No, I believe her. She hasn't been back in town long enough for this level of preplanning. When I found her she was half asleep on a park bench. There's no way she'd have been so unguarded if she thought she was in danger from people with these kind of resources."

"You're frowning like you don't quite believe that," Jayen said.

"No, I'm frowning because I'm worrying about her," Vico said. "If I'd known she would be so stubborn I'd have tagged my wards to make sure she actually went back like she promised." He enlarged another part of the trace.

"Ping her already. You're not busy right now."

Vico lowered his eyes. "If I could have done that I would have already. She hasn't formalized our bond," he said, with undisguised discouragement. "She won't even acknowledge it."

"Won't acknowledge it?" Jayen said, feeling somewhat affronted on Vico's behalf. He could understand why she might not want to formalize their own bond—he wasn't certain whether he wanted to himself—but she and Vico had been so close. Absurdly, frustratingly close. "Why the hell not?"

Vico sighed. "I'd rather not talk about it."

 _Of course not_ , Jayen thought, annoyed. But, he realized a moment later, that gave him something to offer. "You should go check on her. Take my car. I'll be here a while yet."

"I don't have time. Someone from Financial is coming to discuss Bretinne's demands so we can prepare for the meeting. They should be here soon."

They went over the trace some more, but Jayen had been staring at them for over an hour already, and between that and the weird flashes in his vision, it was giving him a headache. He rubbed his eyes absently.

Vico turned to him in consternation. "You've been doing that all day," he said. "What is wrong?"

"It's nothing. Probably the heat is getting to me or something." With all the lines shut down, there was nothing to regulate the temperatures in the building. He reached for one of the bottles of water on the table and rolled the coolness of it over the back of his neck.

"Don't try to pawn that bullshit off on me," Vico said. "Is it your eyes again, or a headache?"

"Just a little flashing in my vision. It's not even bothering me, I'm just tired of looking at this stuff."

"Stubborn idiot," Vico said. "Look at me."

"I'm fine! I feel fine—"

Ignoring his protestations, Vico took Jayen's face between his hands and tipped his head up so he could look into his eyes. "Lower your shields so I can have a proper look."

Jayen smirked up at him. "Are you trying to be provocative now?" He traced his fingers up Vico's arm suggestively.

"I'm trying to make sure you aren't about to collapse on my watch," Vico said. "You know if anything happens to you when you're alone with me they'll find a way to make it my fault. Shields, please."

Jayen sighed impatiently and lowered his shields, his hand closing over Vico's arm as he felt the other man's presence sifting through the clan bond, sinking into his aura. It felt much like a healer's touch, except Vico's presence felt warm and achingly familiar. And irritated. And…affectionate? Jayen dismissed the notion. Vico had done this for him before, checking his aural signature after particularly bad fights and magical disasters, and he had never been able to discern anything like feelings before. Still, it was a pleasant fantasy. Almost as good as the real thing. It was hard not to indulge in a small bit of fantasy when Vico was staring into his eyes so intently.

Vico frowned at him. "Don't go reading anything into this," he said briskly.

Jayen huffed. "Tease," he muttered.

Vico ignored that. "How thorough a checkup did they give you?"

"The usual. Why are you fussing so much?"

"It is possible to contract a curse secondhand through a bond," Vico said. "Dalen worried about that constantly, considering Seya's disposition and how she was so prone to reacting badly to them. It's entirely possible some minor thread of it got into you through the connection and is causing whatever small damage it can."

"I think I'd have noticed by now," Jayen pointed out.

"Would you? To get through, it would need to be a wholly spiritual component. You might not be able to tell."

Jayen did not like that idea at all. "So did you get checked out?" he asked. "Yours is a much closer connection."

"No, because it was a targeted curse. And I don't know if it gets any closer than sharing blood."

Jayen snorted and rolled his eyes. "Your bond survived ten years and a severing, that's much closer than anything I could manage."

"Don't look away," Vico said, pinching him lightly on the cheek.

"What are you doing? Besides tormenting me, I mean."

"I'm checking your aural signature, obviously. You do seem clean, though."

"I guess you'd know better than the healers," Jayen muttered.

"I'm sure I would, considering you avoid them like the very plague," Vico said, tracing his finger over a faint scar above Jayen's eyebrow. "What happened here?"

Jayen tensed at the touch. "What are you doing?" he asked again, more seriously. He let go of Vico's arm, because the proximity was seriously starting to get under his skin.

"Besides trying to remember why I put up with the two of you?" Vico asked, withdrawing, though he still did not step back, crossing his arms and looking down at Jayen with a small, bothered crease to his brow that made him uneasy despite his earlier assertion.

"What? You saw something?"

"I don't know. You don't feel like you've been compromised, but…well, it's been a long time."

"Are you saying you forgot how I feel?"

"No, but aural signatures shift constantly, especially during times of emotional upheaval. We've all three been through the ringer this last week. And even though I have a great deal of experience reading people, my levels aren't that high. I could have missed something, or misread something."

"What was that about knowing me better than the healers, then? Or—were you were just using this as an excuse to put your hands on me?" He leaned forward through the scant inches that separated them with a wicked smile.

"It's because I was worried," Vico said, poking him in the chest with a finger and pushing him back. "You should go to the healers' offices and get a complete auric workup, just in case."

"Waste of time," Jayen said, irritably.

"Go to Dane, she won't tell anyone. Or you could ask Aren next time we go to the Halcyon clinic, if you're worried about the bonded knowing."

"I am not asking a Halcyon for anything, much less something as invasive and time consuming as a full auric workup," Jayen snapped.

"Fine, Dane then. If you haven't made an appointment by Tuesday, I'll drag you over there myself."

"I'd like to see you try," Jayen said.

"No workup, no duel," Vico said mildly.

"You wouldn't go back on your word!"

Vico shrugged. "First time for everything, isn't there?"

"Sly bastard," Jayen muttered. There was that slight, soft smile again, gone as quickly as it came.

Micah came back inside. "Did I miss anything?" he asked.

"Just discussing the lack of proper traces. Who did these images?" Vico asked.

"Madderly did them herself," Micah said.

"Not a mistake, then," Vico mused.

Jayen nodded in agreement. As head of L&R, Madderly was a member of the high tier, though a recent addition, having replaced the retired former chief mage. He considered her politically neutral, as she was the only one on the high tier who had openly acknowledged him as heir from the start. That didn't keep her from criticizing his failings, one of which was Vico—though interestingly it was less an objection to his person than his presence; she considered him divisive. Which was true enough, though Jayen was loath to admit it out loud—it was just so damned unfair.

"By the way, when I was coming back in I saw that your father has arrived, with someone from Financial," Micah added.

Jayen gave an almost guilty start and shifted away from Vico to shuffle through the notes and reports laid out across the table. Vico's expression went flat and he strode back in the direction of the office without another word. The reaction savored strongly of bitterness and Jayen wasn't quite sure why it struck him that way. _Maybe I do need to go see a healer_. He should at least look up whoever had analyzed the curse and ask them the side effects of minor exposure. It wasn't like him to let his imagination run rampant like this.

"You should probably stop staring at his ass before your old man comes in," Micah said under his breath.

"I wasn't—" Jayen began, offended, but then his father did come in, followed closely by two of his personal bodyguards, and Doral Atreya from Financial. He set his shoulders and turned to meet them. "Dad. Mr. Atreya."

Atreya dipped his head in respect to Jayen's status. Corin swept a scornful eye around the factory floor before settling his cold glare on his son. "Why don't you explain to me why this place is suffering from such neglect that a half-baked ruse that could be detected by a _mere mediator_ managed to shut it down two days before its scheduled opening?"

"I'm trying to figure that out myself," Jayen said, not quite meeting his eyes. "We're still assembling the information and having it analyzed. There are issues with the traces—they just aren't enough to read anything from them—"

"I don't want to hear about your failures," Corin said. "I want to hear _results_. If you can't fix your mistake you could at least get it cleaned up as quickly as possible. I expect to hear something conclusive before tomorrow's meeting so we have some sort of advantage over these Bretinne fools." He swept past to the offices. Atreya followed him.

Jayen set his jaw. "Let's go look over things outside some more," he growled and stalked out the door.

❀

Vico suppressed an exasperated sigh for the dozenth time as he listened to Atreya explain, in minute detail, exactly why the Malthusius could not afford to expand the scope of the contract Bretinne had signed, allowing them better access to the Malthusius energy for the running of the factory. Each of Bretinne's demands had been shot down with just this excruciating level of detail, and under Corin's grim eye, he was hard pressed to argue against them without pushing any boundaries. The meeting tomorrow was not going to go well at all, he could feel it in his bones. Corin was determined to hold Bretinne to the current terms of their agreement despite the failure of Malthusius' security measures.

"Maybe we should take a break for a few minutes so I can look over my notes again, see if I can't find a new angle for the negotiations," Vico said. He pretended not to notice the scornful breath Corin let out at that. Atreya made no objections. He was starting to look bored and annoyed with the proceedings himself.

Vico took his folder and went to sit by the window. He flipped through the papers without really looking at them—there was nothing in them that he hadn't already considered. What they really wanted was for him to find a way to salvage the affiliation without making any more concessions, and that was next to impossible. He set the papers down and looked down over the grounds from the second floor window. Below he could see Jayen's people and the first L&R crew working away at the new wards. The front of the property, facing the street, was protected by a stone wall, but the back had a chain link fence. It was a precaution against the wards failing, the weaker seating of the chain link meant to function as a release valve for any escaping energy, releasing it into the heavily wooded area behind the factory instead of the street, where it might cause damage to public property, and Hemsley's charm manufactory across the road.

A stiff wind swayed the fence as they took down the section they were working on, and one of the mages raised a barrier to block it so that the loose metal would be still as they worked. Each section of fence had its own spellwork to be taken down, reworked and linked into the rest to make the barrier whole. Vico watched them move to the next section, and they had to block the wind again, while the warded sections they had already finished were quite still.

The ones with the old wards were not.

Vico bolted out of his chair, galvanized by the sudden realization. He went for the door.

"Rhaimes, where the hell do you think you're going?" Corin snapped.

"Sorry, sir, but I think I just figured out how they got around the wards," he said without slowing. He tore down the stairs and outside to where the mages were working, moving past them to the section of the fence they had not re-warded yet, staring intently at the spellwork, tracing his fingers over the complex tangle of sigils and charms as he worked out the casting and the dissipation and the trajectory of the wind flowing through, ignoring the baffled stares he was garnering.

Jayen came over to him. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I know why the wards were dissipated," Vico said, and grabbed him by the arm, dragging him down to the back gate and making him unlock it so he could get outside. "When we were here yesterday, the fence was moving too, even though the wards should have been keeping it still. Gods damn it, I should have realized it then, but I didn't." He went to the trees that grew thick behind the factory and scrambled up into the branches of the first one that had branches low enough to reach. His hunch was confirmed as he felt the stronger drag of air over his face. He followed the threads of it in his sense until he found the first charm, wound around a branch, a string of feathers and soft brown paper inked with swirling, flowing charms and sigils. He dropped it down to Jayen and shimmied back down to the ground himself.

"A wind summons," Jayen said, staring at the written spellwork. He made a face of distaste as the spell caught, directing the wind in their direction. There was something chilling about the weight of it, almost malicious, even though it was not very strong. Vico drew up a shield to block it out.

Madderly leaned over his shoulder to look, her breath catching as she worked out the casting. "It's meant to disable the wards," she said, taking it from Jayen to examine more closely.

"Not disable," Vico said. "Dissipate."

Madderly made a disgruntled sound and looked up at him, surprised. "So it is," she said. "I see it now." They studied the spellwork together. Before long they had been joined by a number of the other mages and security personnel, and even Corin was striding across the grounds to see what was going on.

"It's still a failing our part," Jayen said. "Someone ought to have noticed the wards were dissipating too quickly. There have to be more, one wouldn’t be enough to take down our proprietary spellwork."

"I'm sure there are dozens," Vico said. "But now that we have a sample, it'll be a small matter to make a counter-summons and find the rest."

Madderly and her crew were already starting the spellwork for that. Vico took possession of the charm when she was done, and carried it back to the fence to study the interaction of the spellwork against the Malthusius wards. "You'll have to rework the warding to defend against this," he said to Jayen, who was close on his heels. "Possibly all our wards. It's ingenious, really, no one would even have thought to ward against wind, it's such an unreliable element to use—no wonder there were no traces! Wind traces are usually discounted anyway, since they tend to accumulate on anything left outside too long, and they're so faint it hardly matters anyway. And look here, this sigil was custom formulated to work specifically against Malthusius' earth seat. Gods. It's so fucking careful, it even works with the way the energy of our wards is regulated to equalize when part of the spellwork is compromised, and the dissipative function uses our energy from the fire seat to increase its power within the reaction so that the wind levels would be low enough not be remarked. Look at the separation clause that divides the energies, it's so _detailed_. Whoever wrote this thing is a gods damned genius."

"I'm glad you're such an admirer," Corin said from behind him, his voice cold as ice.

Vico stiffened, anger flashing through him; it was a struggle to suppress it. He lowered his gaze and said nothing. If figuring out the reason the wards had failed had not bought him any credit with the man, he could hardly see the point of defending himself against an admittedly thoughtless comment.

"It was an excellent catch," Jayen said, looking at his father deliberately. "No one else would have noticed that, or figured what it meant so quickly."

Vico let out a silent breath. _Idiot, don't defend me to your father when you're still afraid to stand next to me in front of him._ It was gratifying, but it was also a pointless gesture that would only serve to further irritate his father.

"An _excellent catch_ that would not have been necessary without you and your people making such a stupid oversight in the first place," Corin said, fixing his attention on his son. "Why was this area not under any security precautions?"

"There's a warded fence around the factory grounds, no one thought it would be necessary. That won't happen again," Jayen said. He beckoned Micah over and gave orders to extend the wards around the whole of the property.

Vico took the opportunity to pull out his notebook and make notes with Madderly about what they should be telling the Bretinne leaders concerning the repairs.

Corin looked on coldly, his gaze returning to Vico with an expression of intense dislike, mixed with resentment. "If you are quite done doing everyone else's jobs, Mr. Rhaimes, perhaps you could get back to yours," he said acidly. "This affiliation is not going to repair itself. Or perhaps I should assign someone else, since you don't seem inclined to do _your_ job with this much spirit."

"I'm terribly sorry, sir, please excuse my thoughtless interruption," Vico said. Handing the wind charm over to Madderly, he tucked his notebook and pen away and followed Corin back to the building.

Jayen went after them. "When is the meeting tomorrow?"

Corin glared over his shoulder at him. "Get back to work, Jayen."

Jayen glared back. "This is for work, Dad."

"Ten," Vico said.

"Come by my office before and we'll go through the Miredes file, so you can tell me if you recognize any faces from the pictures of his associates."

"Of course," Vico said, and went back upstairs as if he did not notice how Corin's glare had transferred back to him.

❀

It was a long, hot afternoon, of endless talking, and even more endless listening, cooped up in that stuffy, stifling office. Eventually Vico gave up trying to convince Atreya and Corin that they should make any further concessions to Bretinne and began to focus on what he should tell Cheritt to keep her from bailing immediately. Which was, of course, what they had intended. Corin was angry at him for holding out so long, which was less intimidating than exhausting, but it was another reminder of just how little chance he had of gaining ground in the clan. At least his detour to the compound to stow his notes for the meeting had been uneventful. Not that he had expected Marten to be in the office on a Sunday. To his deep and endless annoyance, he found a stack of files concerning his docket for the coming work week on his desk, piled high enough that he felt exhausted just looking at them. He packed them into his satchel to look over later.

So Vico was tired and aggravated when he returned home, and the first thing he saw was Seya pelting across the narrow strip of lawn between his apartment building and the sidewalk. He stared at her as she stopped dead upon seeing him, sweating and panting for breath, her face flushed red from having run back trying to beat him home.

The realization that she had broken her word was unexpectedly painful.

"I'm sorry! I really am, I meant to come back—"

"Did you?" he said sharply. "I guess I was the idiot in this, wasn't I? To expect you to keep a promise." He took back the key she was holding and stalked up the stairs.

"It's not like that!" she said, following him up. "I was on my way back and I saw that girl, the one from the market, and there’s definitely something more going on with her, just like I thought. I couldn't just leave it alone!"

Of course she couldn't leave it alone. She could never leave anything alone. "You were following a kid around town for eight hours?" he said, flinging the door open and pausing in the threshold to look back at her in disbelief.

She lowered her eyes, guilt written all over her.

His jaw clenched, and some of the anger he felt crept out. She winced. "Well, not exactly," she muttered. "Look, shut the door and seal your wards, we probably shouldn't talk about it where people can overhear."

At that, he tucked his anger away—for the moment—and closed off his wards. "Start talking," he said, going into the kitchen. "This had better be good."

"She was picking pockets and purse snatching," Seya said. "I followed her and talked to her." She sat down abruptly and put her head between her knees.

Vico scowled at her. "What?"

"Nothing. I'm just hungry and tired."

He made her a sandwich and smacked the plate down on the coffee table in front of her. "Now talk, damn you. What'd the kid say?"

"Not much," Seya said around a mouthful. "I tried to ask her name, but she wouldn't tell me. She was scared, and I think whoever's in charge of her isn't taking very good care of her. Her clothes were getting frayed at the hems, and she looks way too thin."

Vico had a strong suspicion as to why Seya was so affected by this kid’s predicament, but all he said was, "Did you collect any helpful information?"

She paused as if she was trying to decide exactly what to say. Her eyes dropped again and she hunched her shoulders, muttering, "Well, if she had told me something helpful I wouldn't have spent the entire day running around town looking for her, would I? I tried to tell her I could find someone to help her, but I don't think she believed me."

"You should have just done that thing you used to do. Drawn her in."

She blanched, setting her food down abruptly and looking away. "I can't do that."

"Really?" he said. "You mean you can't? Or—"

"I can't," she said. His eyes narrowed as he took in her colorless face and her white knuckled grip on the edge of the coffee table, and he wondered whether she meant she couldn't for some untold reason, or that the idea terrified her beyond the ability to pretend otherwise. She had always had a bit of a complex about her magic, because of the fuss it entailed all throughout her childhood, but this—this was new.

He sat down next to her and looped his arm through hers. "What is it? You can tell me anything, you know. I won't ask if you don't want—"

"I gave her the address here," she interrupted.

"What? Why on earth would you give her my address? I hope you don't think you're gonna up and leave this little problem on my doorstep. I _will_ come after you."

"I'm stuck here for three more days, that's plenty of time to sort it out."

S _tuck here,_ he thought bitterly. "Sort it out? Did you forget you've been cursed? No magic, no fighting?"

"In the first place, I'm fine now, thank you very much. In the second, there are other ways to settle problems besides blasting and punching them into submission, and in the third place, are you, of all people, really not on board to help a kid who's clearly in a bad situation?"

"Well, when you put it like that I feel like an asshole for objecting, but really, Seya! This bizarre impulse you have to get drawn into things that are none of your damn business is going to kill you someday!"

"You know, Jayen went off on me for objecting to the Malthusius methods. Something about the good of this town, and not being a pack of thugs. Are you trying to tell me this isn't part of your job? You know, keeping the town clean and prosperous? If this kid is mixed up in something unsavory, it is basically your obligation to do something."

"Technically, it's the guard's obligation now. We even had a war about this whole issue a few years ago; as I recall, it ended with the clan's legal authority being more or less dismantled."

"On paper, maybe. You guys can't go on defending the clans if you're going to disregard the obligations that informed their creation in favor of business interests."

He blinked at her, his lips parted in surprise, and then he had to laugh, because she was right, and he did agree with her on that point. "Never thought I'd hear you say something like that."

"Yes, well, I'm trying to win an argument right now."

"You're a hopeless idiot, you know."

"And you're a rude bastard."

"I am," he agreed, relaxing at the half-sullen, half-playful retort. "Okay, then. I have this gods awful meeting tomorrow that will probably go on for hours and end in a screaming row and possibly my revocation, but I will try to do something. I'm sure Jayen will put out an alert if I ask him nicely."

"Do I want to know what that means?" she asked.

"It means I will do what I can, but only if you keep your promises. And I won't do a gods damn thing about this if you won't swear to stay here tomorrow instead of risking your health and safety gallivanting all over town looking for a needle in a haystack."

"You're blackmailing me?"

"I absolutely am. Say you promise. Swear it, and _mean_ it this time."

She scowled at him. "Using a helpless child to manipulate me," she muttered.

"That's the idea, yes."

"Fine. I swear I will stay here tomorrow. Are you happy? You've consigned me to a day of restless, miserable anxiety."

"Good job Aren assured us that the risk of rebound is practically nothing at this point, then," he said. "Now, I have to look over all this bedamned paperwork, so go get ready for your appointment so we can get that over with and I can get back to work."

She finished her sandwich in silence and took herself off for a bath. After they got back from the clinic, she fell asleep sprawled over the couch while Vico went over his notes and tried very hard to concentrate on his strategy for the meeting instead of the nagging worry that she was planning to abandon him again at the first opportunity.


	21. The Start of a (Very) Long Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning! Visible evidence of child abuse in this chapter! Poor Nemone...
> 
> This chapter has been up on the official website for, um, months, oops, sorry. I forgot to post it here. Life is still kicking my ass but I’m trying! I’ve even commissioned a cover for this beast of a story. Cross your fingers for me!

"Fire and water," Vico said. "Please tell me this isn't all from the Miredes investigation."

Jayen looked up from the papers, pictures, and memory charms stacked high across his desk, surprised. It was coming on seven, and he had not expected Vico this early—hadn't expected him to show up at all. "Just this half," he said, gesturing to the right side of the piles. "The rest is Bretinne." He had shifted all the unrelated reports over to Hanna's desk for the time being. She wasn't going to like that, but he didn't care, not after the night he'd had. The investigation had dragged out all day and into the evening, and despite finding the wind charms, had turned up not a single, solid lead in either the traces or the physical evidence, and his father was determined to make that his fault.

"I might not have time to go over everything before the meeting," Vico said, taking up the thick folio of pictures Jayen nudged in his direction. "It was moved up to nine instead of ten. I was on the phone with Cheritt for half an hour trying to placate her before I came here. I still have to go fetch them and outline our strategy beforehand."

"It's fine, just do what you can. It's really not that much, I just haven't finished compiling yesterday's reports. You could come back after. If you don't have other work, I mean."

"If I'm still alive after," Vico said with a grimace. He set to work, sorting through stacks of pictures Jayen's crews had collected in the course of the investigation.

For a while the only sounds were the shuffle of paper and the scratch of Jayen's pen. "You're here early," Vico said.

"There's a lot of work to be done," Jayen said. He had come in before dawn, not wanting to run into his father after the shouting match they'd had the night before. Jayen was willing to admit he might have overseen Bretinne's security more thoroughly, but this blatant sabotage—this wasn't how things were _done_. Clan on clan antagonism usually took the form of duel challenges, lawsuits, and, occasionally, outright harassment—but only of the bonded, and that was something Jayen tried to discourage for his people. Affiliates were off limits, and direct sabotage was practically unheard of. Even Jayen didn't consider this a good excuse for his failure of oversight, but he didn't have the patience to be shouted down for not anticipating something so completely out of the ordinary, especially when all the previous interference had been through lawful, if somewhat indirect methods. The argument had ended with Jayen storming out of the compound to go to his mother's house for the night. He hadn't stayed there since Vico had left him, and the memories that had stirred up had hardly improved his mood.

"Your eyes aren't bothering you today?"

"They're fine. I told you, it was just the heat and stress," Jayen said without looking up. "If you're going to worry that much you might as well come home, keep an eye on me personally."

Vico slipped another picture into the discard pile. "I thought it got on your nerves when I worried over you."

"It does. When has that ever stopped you?"

Vico shook his head. "Did you make that appointment yet?"

Jayen shot him an impatient look. "Hanna will arrange it when she gets in. You can nag her yourself, she'll be here soon."

"Don't think I won't," Vico said mildly. They worked in silence for a few more minutes. Then: "I have a favor to ask."

Jayen set his pen down. "Do you. And is this favor also something to do with Seya?"

"It is," Vico said.

Jayen huffed under his breath. "Of course. What does she need now?"

"You remember that pickpocket she ran into at the market by the square?"

"I handed a picture of her out to all the teams," Jayen said. "No one's reported seeing her, though I haven't had time to go over all of yesterday's reports on anything but this Bretinne mess yet. I'll have Hanna look when she gets in."

"If you could bump the kid up to the priority list, that would be great."

"I'm sorry, did you just ask me to make a priority case of some thieving brat? What is this about?"

"Seya thinks—" He paused as Jayen made an impatient sound. "She thinks something more is going on with the kid than just garden variety neglect. She ran into her again yesterday, and apparently it bothered her enough that she spent the whole morning and half the afternoon chasing around town trying to find her again."

"Did she give you some kind of reason, or is this just her poking her nose into something she ought to leave alone?"

"She seemed really upset about it," Vico said. "I practically had to blackmail her to keep her from tearing off again today to look by herself."

"And she can't do that because…?"

"Because she's recovering from a curse that was meant for you and may be a target herself?"

Jayen's lips thinned in annoyance as he thought about that. He felt like he had discharged any debt to her already by helping keep her from dying, but it might go a long way towards repairing his relationship with Vico if he cooperated. On the other hand, between the assassination attempt and the sabotage, and the dozen other things going on around their territory, his department was already stretched to its limit. There was also the bond, which had not faded out yet. He had yet to decide whether he should let it. It was so faint today he could barely feel it at all, so maybe it wasn't even up to him. "Where'd she say she saw the kid?"

Vico gave him the street names and then went back to flipping through the pictures. Jayen watched him out of the corner of his eye as he rearranged the itinerary for the day to accommodate the request. The fire charm still glittered at his ear, and Jayen wondered, as he had for months, if he was wearing it out of sentiment, or simply as a means of self defense. His coppery hair caught the morning light streaming through the window, the normally tousled locks tamed into submission for once. His fingers twitched against the edges of the folio every time he had to make the effort to curb the habit of running them through it. Jayen had a fleeting urge to reach across the desk and muss it back into its usual artlessly ruffled state, to trace patterns in the pale freckles spangled lightly across his face, and down his neck—and arms and shoulders and back, though Jayen had to imagine those from memory, with Vico currently starched and polished and buttoned down into an impeccable semblance of professionalism in preparation for his meeting with the high tier. His expression was remote, his eyes moving over the pictures, swift and sharp and completely detached, like it didn't mean anything to sit alone in an office with the man he'd walked out on nearly a year ago. Maybe it didn't. Maybe his attention now was just a ploy to gain Jayen's cooperation on Seya's behalf. Or some roundabout form of punishment for his behavior last summer.

They had never discussed that last fight, nor the events that had followed, not even after the decision to try to be friends. Jayen had only agreed to that farce out of desperation. He didn't want to be friends with Vico. He wanted to shove everything off the desk and drag Vico across it and kiss him until that blasted composure fell apart and he admitted he wanted Jayen the same way. He wanted it so much that for a moment he could barely breathe.

Vico's voice broke through his reverie. "Did they end up uncovering anything in the traces after I left yesterday?"

"I was busy with the rest of the investigation. Micah's supposed to go by L&R and collect the reports before he comes in," Jayen said. "Should be soon."

The night crew arrived first, two by two, loud and boisterous as they clocked out. Landen came by Jayen's office to turn in his nightly reports. He was still smarting from his recent reprimand, and it lent the atmosphere a grim tension, which was not improved by the scornful look he leveled at Vico as he stalked out. After a few minutes the rest of the night crew filtered out as well, going home, or to breakfast at Dacie's, and then Micah arrived, followed closely by Lejan.

Lejan paused in the doorway under Jayen's glower. He held up a folder in one hand. "I was sent to bring you the report from L&R. Chief Madderly said you had requested copies asap."

"Give it to Vico," Jayen said shortly, and went back to his paperwork.

"Sure, boss," Lejan said. He handed the folder to Vico. "I heard about your catch yesterday. Excellent eye. I think Madderly was impressed."

"Are you sure you don't mean she wants to dropkick me in front of a moving train for thoughtlessly showing her up?" Vico asked.

"No, I mean she was saying she needed more people like you in our department," Lejan said.

"Ah, so it'll be the rest of them wanting to dropkick me then. Thank you for the warning."

"We'll have you in L&R yet, just wait and see," Lejan predicted cheerfully, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Jacinth, I'm sure you have better things to do than chat up people who are actually working," Jayen said.

"Thank you, Lejan," Vico said. "Have a good morning, and don't mind the bear. He gets cranky when they don't bring him his coffee on time."

Lejan left, obviously trying not to smile. Jayen tossed Vico a scowl, which he ignored as he flipped open the report and skimmed through the first few pages, his previous detachment replaced by genuine interest. "Is that the reason you came here so early today?" Jayen demanded.

"Part of it. So?"

Jayen's scowl deepened. "So I thought you came because I asked you to help with the investigation! But you're just interested in that damn spellwork."

Vico rolled his eyes. "I am helping." He held up the charm with the traces that had been included with the report before setting it on one of the stacks of papers on Jayen's desk and activating it. He isolated the diagram that illustrated the casting of the wind spell. "Do you have an image of the spellwork for the curse from the glass shards?"

"In my desk," Jayen said. "Why?"

"L&R detected no significant resonances in the traces they analyzed," Vico said. "But looking at the spellwork suggests that these two incidents are related."

Jayen unlocked the drawer and got the charm out for him. Vico set it up next to the other one to compare the two pieces of spellwork up close. "Look here, at the wind directive in the spellwork. You can see the attracting subclause here. It's a very efficient one for the space it's contained in, and it's sigil, not charm based. Suggests a higher level of experience in the handling of the elemental properties than average. It's the same with the water directives on the attack portion of the curse. I thought it was odd before, because generally people use the charm versions—the natural variations in spiritual magic don't lend themselves well to rote-style written casting unless there's a seated source of the element to draw from, which makes these doubly strange, since they clearly aren't drawing from anything more than ambient wind energy, but the fact that it is working so well still suggests a bond of some sort is in play. That's part of the reason we can't trace anything, because it's basically impossible, and I would sell my left eye to know how they're managing it. It makes no damn _sense_. There are some similarities to the way the spellwork is arranged as well," he added. "Here, in the connections, mostly. And this is basically an identical subclause here." He poked at the images, pointing out the near identical sections in the wind charm, the water charm and even the overall layout of the curse.

Jayen did not have much interest in written magic beyond the usual wards and household automagic, but even to his inexpert eye it looked suggestive. "So the assassination and the sabotage were done by the same people."

"It certainly looks that way," Vico said. "I thought it was a bit much for a coincidence already, but this almost proves it. It really is too bad they couldn't detect any resonances."

"I can get the water sigils, but it's next to impossible to seat wind," Micah said. "Too unruly, not enough power for the effort either."

"I know, but it's not _literally_ impossible. And we even know someone who would have that kind of experience. Two someones, actually. Back in Mardre, the Albrecht were a shipping clan. Ran supply lines between Caldona, Thelassa and the Isles since the First Wave, even achieved a measure of fame for smuggling weaponry in and refugees out during the subsequent Waves. Air and sea lines both."

"Wind and water," Micah said, looking back at the trace images again. "Damn."

Jayen slammed his fist down on the desk. "That son of a bitch," he growled.

"It's entirely circumstantial," Vico reminded him. "And the Vetiver had a wind-seat in their bond when they commanded the Lyreani sect of the knights in the northwestern provinces. Though obviously they're gone now. But Albrecht did take over nearly all their territory, if you recall."

"Albrecht is seated in earth and metal here," Jayen said. "That's a little strange in and of itself, considering their background. I remember Dad saying their bond magic wasn't balanced enough. If they've got a secret wind seat, or took one over from the Vetiver when they decamped, that would explain why they haven't applied for an official clan designation in Starling. I know they've taken no new bonded either, possibly to keep oversight of the existing bond to a minimum."

"They could have seated the wind after the initial inspection," Micah said. "It'd be hard to hide, though."

"It's possible," Vico said. "If it's true, then Miredes is probably working for them in some capacity too. It's hardly conclusive, but at least it gives us a solid starting point." He looked down at the stack of pictures in his lap, moving the one on top to the discard pile. "Well hello," he said, starting at the sight of the next one. He held it up for Jayen and Micah to see. It was a woman with the coloring and curly hair of a northerner, but what had caught his eye was the girl standing near her. She had the same complexion and the same curly hair, her features similar enough to the woman that they had to be related. She was the pickpocket Seya had seen in the market.

"There's no name, just a date. Two weeks ago, about the time Miredes started bothering us again," Vico observed. "Does the woman look familiar to either of you?"

"I don't know her, but she was there at the protest yesterday, wasn't she?" Micah said.

"Yes," Vico said.

They went through the rest of the pictures, and found one of the woman with a stocky man, fair skinned, with short-cropped dark hair, also unnamed, but dated within the same two week period.

"It's strange that no one knows them," Micah said.

"They could be recent arrivals," Vico said. "If it is Albrecht, he may have outside personnel working for him, possibly from his old affiliations back in Mardre, to keep attention off his bonded. We should keep an eye out, investigate any strangers seen associating with his clan or his local businesses and affiliates."

"Yes. I want to know who these people are by the end of the day," Jayen said. "Names, addresses, any affiliations, official or not. Have Hanna make copies of this. I want one in the hands of every team, all shifts." He handed everything off to Micah to organize.

Vico glanced at the clock and gave a deep, resigned sigh as he stood. "I have to get going if I want to prepare for the meeting. If I get revoked for telling Cheritt to insist on some form of reparation, I just want to say it was nice working with you both," he said, with a sardonic little bow. "Good day, gentlemen."

"Don't be dramatic," Jayen said. "No one's revoking you for doing your job."

"Whatever you say, love," Vico said over his shoulder, leaving Jayen staring after him in surprise at the endearment.

❀

_Three more days_ , Seya thought as she found herself at the window once again, searching for a small, furtive figure that wasn't there.

Two and a half days, now—she had whiled the morning away, tense and restless, looking for something to do besides sit around worrying and imagining the worst. "What were you thinking, offering to help some damn brat kid when you can't even help yourself?" she scolded herself out loud as she was cleaning the apartment. "Idiot."

Unfortunately, there was not much in the way of cleaning or anything else to be done, and none of Vico's books were able to hold her attention. By noon she was almost frantic with boredom and frustration. Vico had said he would not be able to come home for lunch, so she scarfed down a quick meal alone and debated again whether it was worth it to honor the promise he'd blackmailed out of her. She felt like he was worrying unreasonably. She was perfectly capable of looking after herself, cursed or not. But if the child did come and she wasn't here…

Vico had tagged his wards, too, so even if she returned before he did, he would still know she had left, and she did not want to upset him again. Though upsetting him was inevitable in the long run, she supposed, staring out the window again.

Maybe when Vico made it home she could have him anchor her so she could range out with her sense and find the child that way. At this point she was sure she could do it without rebounding the fading remnants of the curse, but she wasn't at all sure she was willing to risk accidentally formalizing the bond with that kind of intensively cooperative magic. Leaving so much of herself in Starling would surely lead DeGraffenreid here eventually, and there was no way she was going to be able to make herself sever that connection again. She'd been utterly desperate the first time, and she obviously hadn't done it correctly, if enough threads of it had remained to reestablish the bond. She had probably learned enough since then to make a clean break this time, but that wouldn't stop it from hurting. She couldn't hurt Vico like that again.

She paced through the living room, making a path that took her past the window so she could keep an eye out. It wasn't as if Vico would turn the girl away even if she left. She probably wouldn't come anyway—but if she did come back and Seya wasn't there would she still consent to be helped? Would it mean Corin would be the one to help her? Seya didn't want that. She could accept the idea that Malthusius was a stabilizing force in Starling, if a flawed one; and not actually made of evil, as she had felt growing up, but that didn't mean she wanted anything to do with Corin or his clan. She certainly didn't want to leave a child in his debt.

The afternoon stretched on and on and on. When she couldn't stand it anymore, she raided Vico's grocery money, breached the wards on the back door as quietly as she could manage and went out through the courtyard gate behind the apartment complex. On the corner she paused briefly to make sure she had not alerted the Malthusius who was parked on the curb out front, and when there was no reaction, took herself around the block in a furious mixture of nerves and defiance. She paced around for a few minutes, decided she was no better off outside than in—where did she have to go?—and headed back, stopping in the corner grocery on the way to get ingredients for dinner. She was hoping but not expecting the gesture would pacify Vico's inevitable objections to the excursion.

She was on her way back to the apartment when she saw one of the big, black Malthusius cars slipping around the corner. Assuming it was Vico's ride, she picked up the pace, preparing herself for an angry reception—he had to be furious if he was shutting himself out of the bond so much that she hadn't sensed him. She slipped in the back door, rehearsing her apology in her head, but was greeted only by the stillness of the empty apartment. She dropped the grocery bag on the table and crossed to the living room. Out the window she could see the car she had spotted parked next to the one on the curb, and two Malthusius were out on the sidewalk, talking. Jayen had assigned the two of them to keep an eye on Vico's place. Rena Soledad she remembered from Jayen's little clique when they were kids, and Vico had called the other one Canto, but they had not been introduced. Vico was nowhere to be seen. Rena gestured wildly in the direction of Vico's apartment, and then she and Canto both started toward the steps.

They must have noticed she had left. With a sigh of resignation, she went to the front door to let them know she was back, but upon flinging it open, she was immediately overwhelmed by a sense of intense distress, because huddled in front of her on the landing was her mysterious pickpocket child.

Seya's jaw went tight with fury at the sight of her. The left side of the girl's face was swollen and purpling, and there was a long, bloody gash on her left arm. Someone had made an effort to tie what looked to be a pillowcase around the injury, but it was soaked through and starting to drip on the doormat.

"Gods, child, what happened?" Seya sank to her knees to get a closer look at the girl's injuries.

"You happened!" the girl said, her voice rising hysterically. "They saw you took that coercion thing off!"

Seya flinched. "I'm sorry, I really am. I should have—" _I should have gone after her yesterday. Idiot._

Rena and Canto came hurtling up the steps just then, and the girl gave a shriek of pure terror, clutching at Seya's arm. "Don't let them take me!" she cried.

Seya winced at the pain and fear coming through at the contact. She glared at the two Malthusius. "Do you do this to her?" she asked, not bothering to keep her anger from projecting out at them.

"No!" Rena said, lifting her hands placatingly and taking a step back down the stairs. "We were told to look for her today. She was hurt already when I found her. I tried to get her to come with me to a healer—"

"They're trying to kidnap me!" the girl whimpered.

"They aren't taking you anywhere," Seya said. Rena and Canto exchanged a look. "You're _not_."

The girl gave a sob and sank against Seya weakly, shaking like a leaf. Seya helped her to her feet. "I'm taking her inside. No, you stay out here, she's upset enough," Seya snapped, when they made to follow her. Canto went back down the stairs, already connecting to the bond network to report the incident. Rena stayed in the door, watching like a hawk. "Close the damn door," Seya said. Rena glared at her, but she did it.

Seya steered the girl to the table and sat her down. "Stay there a minute, I'm getting the first aid kit. We need to wrap your arm up properly, then I'm taking you to a healer."

"I can't go to a healer, they'll ask too many questions!" the girl cried, and promptly burst into tears.

Seya put her hands over her face and took a deep breath. She'd never been good at dealing with injured people. _You can handle this, it's just a few bruises and a cut_ , she told herself. She went to the tiny utility room and dug out Vico's first aid kit and some clean towels.

When she came back to the dining room, the girl was slumped in the chair, cradling her arm and sweeping wary eyes around the apartment. She glared at Seya suspiciously. "You didn't say you were Malthusius," she said.

"I'm not."

"Liar! Those people outside are Malthusius, and they did what you said. This is a Malthusius place, too! Even the wards are their magic!"

"You can tell?" Seya asked, surprised. She studied the child's magic in her sense. With the coercion gone, the dissonance had faded out and her energy had acquired a more natural rhythm, its glow a bit bright for her age, perhaps, leaning more toward spiritual magic than elemental, though she was young enough that it wasn't a clear indication of her full talents; spiritual magic usually woke first.

A panicked look crossed over the girl's face, and she ducked her head, mumbling, "I just thought they were, is all."

She was obviously lying, but Seya couldn't imagine why. She set her hand on the girl's shoulder, ignoring the emotional deluge and focusing on her words, making sure the girl could feel the sincerity behind them. "This is my friend Vico's place, and he is Malthusius, but I am not, and won't be, ever. I am not trying to recruit you, or whatever other horrible thing you're imagining, and if I thought they were trying to, I'd be the first to report them to the Bond Authority."

The girl relaxed a little. Enough to stop glaring and bristling, anyway. Seya took her hand away. "Now I'm going to wrap up your arm and then I'm going to take you to a proper healer to get you fixed up. Lay it here so I can look at it." She patted the towel.

The girl stretched her arm out to be inspected. Seya loosened the pillowcase and pulled it back to reveal a series of clean, razor-thin cuts. She unrolled another of the towels and poured a liberal amount of disinfectant over it, dabbing as gently as she could manage at the wounds, trying to touch the girl's skin as little as possible. "What's your name?"

"Nemone," she mumbled.

Nemone winced aloud several times as Seya cleaned the cuts. Seya managed to keep from doing the same. They weren't as deep as she had feared, and only one was bleeding significantly. Seya wrapped them all up until the blood stopped showing through the bandages. "Did your parents do this?" she asked, turning Nemone's face up to examine the bruises.

Nemone jerked her head away. "My parents are dead."

"Family? Legal guardians? Someone who picked you up off the street before?"

"Art—I mean, my cousin's husband did it," said Nemone.

"Your cousin is your legal guardian?"

She shifted uncomfortably. "I guess so."

Seya had a strong suspicion there was nothing particularly legal about the arrangement. "And your cousin is okay with their husband hitting you and slicing up your arms?"

"He only hit me. I cut myself busting out the window to get away after Rhet—after my cousin locked me in my room." Nemone looked down at her knees. "She yelled at him for hitting me that hard," she added, as if feeling she needed to defend her cousin on principle at least. "He never hit me in the face before. Or this hard."

Seya couldn't breathe for the sudden, vivid memory of Vico, aged seven, curled up beside her with an ice pack that Ian had made for him pressed to the bruises on his face, crying with relief because he'd been told him he didn't have to go back home. "But you came here anyway," she said softly. "You're a brave one, Nemone."

Nemone started crying again. Seya passed her a clean towel to mop up her face, blinking back her own, much angrier tears as she went to make an ice pack. "Will you be okay to walk?" she asked as she gave it to the child.

"Walk where?" Nemone asked, pressing the ice pack to her cheek gingerly.

"To see the healer I was talking about. He works a few blocks away." She glanced at the clock. "Actually, his clinic closes at seven. We won't make it in time. We'll just go to his house, it's closer anyway."

"Can't you fix it?" Nemone asked. "You're a professional spiritual mage, right? Art—I mean, my cousin's husband said only a pro would have been able to see and remove that coercion thing. He was freaking out because he thought you were a priestess or something."

"I'm not a priestess. I was a pinnacled mage at one point—sort _of—but_ I can't do healing magic," Seya said.

Nemone looked up at her dubiously. "I thought you just needed spiritual magic for that."

"No, it also requires extensive training in anatomy and medicinals, which is expensive and takes years to master, and I haven't exactly been rolling in opportunities for that. Are you sure you can walk? I can ask one of the security people to drive us."

"Ride in a _Malthusius_ car?" Nemone squeaked. "No! No way! I can walk!"

"Okay, that's fine, I wasn't crazy about the idea myself," Seya said, wondering why the child could possibly be so worried about the Malthusius. "You should know they're probably going to follow us anyway. They're here to keep an eye on me."

"Why are they keeping an eye on you?"

"It's complicated," Seya said. "How long before someone misses you?"

"I don't know," Nemone said. "Arton works weird hours, and Rheta didn't say where she was going before she left." She flushed and ducked her head when she realized she'd given away their names. "Don't tell anyone!"

"Who do I have to tell?" Seya asked, gesturing to the empty apartment around them. "Let's go, though." She got to her feet, but before she could get to the door, a burst of attack magic thundered outside, strong enough to shake the apartment wards. Seya staggered a bit at the sense of pressure against them. She shook it off and went to the window, heart pounding, and saw the two Malthusius engaged in a fight with a man she did not recognize.

Nemone came up behind her and gave a terrified gasp. "That's Arton! He must have come after me!"

Following her blood traces, no doubt. Seya herded the child toward the back door. "The Malthusius will keep him busy. Quick, let's go before the guard get summoned over the fight." Nemone followed her out through the back door and out of the courtyard of the apartment complex, nervous energy vibrating in her aura. Seya paused before going out onto the street, just long enough to assure herself that Arton did not have allies lying in wait, and then she led Nemone away as quickly as she dared without risking attention or further injury to the girl.


	22. A Charitable Endeavor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh, here’s chapter 22. I’m going to stop apologizing for letting this hellscape of a year kick my ass. I am trying, it’s just hard to proof these chapters when I can barely get myself out of bed.

**A Charitable Endeavor**

It was a couple of blocks before the chaotic energy of the fighting faded out of the passive range of Seya’s senses. She slowed to look around and get her bearings—they were headed in the right direction, thankfully. But then she glanced down at Nemone and realized leading a bruised, bandaged and bloodied child around was an open invitation for trouble. She took a quick look around and then shrugged out of her long-sleeved shirt. "Here, let me put this over your clothes," she said.

Nemone let her pull the shirt up over her arms and button it over her bloodied clothes and bandaged arm. A simple masking charm covered the bruises well enough.

Nemone lowered the ice pack and stared up at her with wide eyes. "What happened to your _shoulder_?"

Seya glanced down at herself with chagrin. Walking around in a plain undershirt made her look like an over-aged delinquent, as well as doing little to hide the scars on her shoulder and back. They were still red and more than a little attention-catching, though hopefully not as alarming as Nemone's fresher injuries. "I got cursed last week. It's fine now, though, it’s just a scar. Come on, we don't want to be out here any longer than we have to." Seya felt uncomfortably exposed. Mere cloth didn't do much to mute the effects of being jostled by passersby, but it was still better than nothing at all. At least it was a quiet enough evening that the chances of that were low. Still, she gave their few fellow pedestrians a wide berth in passing, trying not to shrink from the odd looks they garnered.

Anxious as she was, Seya tried to set an easy pace for the girl, but Nemone was even more uneasy to be outside. She stuck close to Seya at first, but then started walking faster, until she was almost jogging ahead.

"Look, you're hurt," Seya said. "Don't run, you'll reopen those cuts. The school isn't going anywhere."

"School? I thought you said we were going to a healer!"

"He lives at a school," Seya said. It was going to be so awkward turning up at Halcyon again, and this time asking for a favor on this scale. Surely Aren had been filling everyone's heads with tales of her misbegotten youth. She briefly considered dropping Nemone off at a temple instead, but that seemed too heartless, to say nothing of cowardly, when it was her fault the girl had been hurt.

She shoved aside a quiver of anxiety and ranged about with her sense, checking for possible threats. Nothing stood out to her until they were getting close to the school. Her steps slowed as she followed after a faint trace of something that rang sharp and negative and purposeful at the outer edge of her range.

"Wait," Nemone said, glancing around the streets with sudden recognition. "Are taking me to _Halcyon_?"

"You know about it?" Seya asked, her concentration broken. When she ranged out again, whatever she'd felt was gone. She picked up her pace anyway, not trusting that it had been a coincidence.

"I've heard of it. Isn't that place practically a joke?"

"Hey, now, I went to Halcyon! It's a good school. They foster kids like you all the time, so you don't even have to worry about going back home."

"I can't afford a school, and there's no way my cousin will let me go, anyway!"

"It's a charitable school, they get a stipend from the government in cases like yours. You wouldn't have to pay anything. And your cousin isn't going to have a say in it, if she's letting her husband hit you."

"I'm not going to a damn _charity_ school!" Nemone bristled.

"Too bad, we're practically there already," Seya said, gesturing to the corner they were approaching. The street they were on ended in an alley along Halcyon's south wall. The ancient trees and lush, informal herbal gardens, Aren's small cottage-type house—it all made a pleasing view, restful and settled and most of all, safe. "The main gate's on the west side, it's this way." She led Nemone up the wide alley between the south wall and the neighboring block.

Nemone was grudgingly impressed by the gardens visible over the low wall, vibrant with flowers and greenery, the towering trees, the heavy lines of magic that criss-crossed the grounds. It was very inviting, especially for bond magic, which usually carried an aura of exclusivity against those who did not share in the bond. "I guess it doesn't look as bad as they said," she allowed as they approached the corner.

"What did they say?" Seya asked.

Nemone shrugged. "They called it a waste. The people running it are supposed to be sops."

Seya rolled her eyes—of course they would think that. Stupid clan mentality. "Your cousin said that?"

"No, it was Arton and his friends."

"Why were they—"

The question was interrupted by a car rounding the corner into the alley, screeching to a halt behind them. A woman with the same dark gold skin and curly hair as Nemone got out and lunged for the girl. "Nemone! You gods damned brat, what the hell are you doing, I've been looking all over for you!"

Nemone gave a terrified squeak. Seya moved between the two of them and drew up a defensive shield. "Look now," she said to the woman—Rheta, she guessed. "I don't care what your story is, I'm taking this girl to see a healer. She's not going anywhere with you."

"How dare you—is this the interfering bitch who messed with you yesterday?" Rheta demanded, glaring at Nemone. "Get over here, you ungrateful little—"

"I don't think so," Seya said. "Come on, Nemone." She herded the girl backwards toward the corner, her eyes never leaving Rheta's face.

"You're not going anywhere with her! I am that girl's guardian, you are kidnapping her right now. I don't know what lies she's told you—"

The woman's aura was riddled with fear and she was lying through her teeth. "If you're her guardian, then go on and call the guard," Seya retorted. "Tell them she'll be right here at Halcyon. I'm sure they'll be very interested in how she got those bruises on her face."

Rheta went a little pale at that. "Don't think I won't! Damn it, Nemone, get over here!"

Nemone hesitated a bit, glancing from Seya to her cousin.

"Come on, Nemone," Seya said, without shifting her fierce glare from Rheta's face. "You don't owe her anything. No one should be allowed to hit you, ever."

Nemone did not hesitate this time when Seya pointed her again toward the corner. Rheta swore colorfully and dove after them. She wore dueling gloves, and they were embellished with a number of charms, all carefully selected for maximum damage during a fight—fire, cracked glass, hard stone and sharp-edged metals. She sent a vicious burst of sharp, glassy magic at them, aiming for Seya, but not troubling much to avoid Nemone either. Seya's shield deflected it easily—Rheta's levels were not that high—but she was aware that she was not supposed to be using any magic, and it was hard for her to shield someone else because of the proximity required. There was simply no good way to secure a shield around another person without touching them. If she had an anchor—but Vico wasn't there, and it wasn't like she'd be able to tolerate anyone else, even if there had been help around. She shoved Nemone around the corner and in the direction of the gate, which sat an inconvenient distance away, considering they were now being chased. _Why does this place have to be so damn big, anyway!_ she thought, feeling a stitch pinching in her side as she ran.

Rheta unleashed another attack, which slammed into Seya's ungrounded shield hard enough to knock her sideways into the wall. Seya wished she had set something more substantial as the rough stone gouged her bare shoulder, stinging painfully. At least it wasn't the curse-injured shoulder. She stumbled upright again, making a hasty attempt to strengthen her defenses. It made her acutely aware of just how far she was from fully recovered. An ache was already starting up in the scars on her shoulder, an all-too-familiar pain stabbing up from her left hand from the magical exertion, and she was feeling winded before they were even halfway to the gate.

It was fortunate, then, that Rheta did not seem to be much of a mage, or much of an athlete either—she was panting too, losing ground, and her pace slowed further when she was casting. After a third attempt at blasting Seya to get to Nemone, she stopped trying to use magic and concentrated on catching up. She managed to tackle Seya just as she reached the gate, and they both went crashing through together, with Seya knocking into Nemone's back and taking her down with them too. The shock of Nemone's pain and Rheta's fury and both of their desperate fear stunned her enough that Rheta was able to get an arm around her neck. For an interminable moment, Seya was paralyzed between two overwhelming tides of emotion.

Then Nemone gave a pained, terrified whimper, squirming away from her, and that relief was enough to galvanize her back into action. There was warm stone under her right hand, and Seya sank her sense into it, drawing out the hardness with such force it cracked under her palm. She slammed her elbow backwards into Rheta's face, shielded by part of that hardness, and when the woman staggered backwards off her, clutching her nose, Seya twisted around, leveling the rest of the energy into a swift, angry strike that knocked Rheta backwards through the gate, to crash onto the sidewalk outside.

"Nemone, are you okay?" Seya gasped, turning to check on her. The girl was curled into a ball, cradling her injured arm, tears pouring down her face. There was blood seeping through the shirt sleeve. "Can you stand? You need to get to the house."

Rheta dragged herself upright, swearing furiously, and started back toward them. Seya raised her hand, sweeping with her sense for something else to borrow energy from, anything—but Rheta never reached them. Seya felt the stirring of Halcyon's energy as the wards slammed shut. Rheta crashed into them before she could stop herself, bouncing back with a pained grunt. With a burst of violent profanity, she made one final, ineffectual blast at the wards before fleeing.

Seya looked back to see Zan coming down the walk and gave a sigh of relief and resignation. He stopped, blinking down at her in such surprise she was amazed not to be able to feel it coming off him. He really did have good discipline.

"Seya? I did not expect to see you back here," he said. He frowned after Rheta’s swiftly retreating form. "And fighting in front of my gate again."

"Yeah, well. Owed you a thank you gift, didn't I?" Seya said, gesturing to Nemone.

"Oh!" he said, eyes widening with recognition. Seeing the bruises and blood, they widened further in alarm, and he knelt in front of her to get a better look at her injuries.

Nemone stared up at him a moment in horror, before turning to Seya with an expression of utter betrayal. "Why's _he_ here!"

"He's the school master," Seya said.

"Well I'm not staying here now!" Nemone cried, and tried to stand up, but the mixture of pain, panic, and the fact that she had skinned both her knees pretty badly when she fell sent her crashing right back to the ground. Ignoring her indignant protests, Zan picked her up and carried her to the house. Nemone went quiet, shaking with mortification.

Aren met him halfway up the walk, looking right past him to Seya, who was dawdling along behind and looking longingly back over her shoulder at the gate. She wished Zan had opened the wards back up, so she could have made her getaway rather than remain stuck here in the trouble this was going to cause. Not that she supposed leaving would help that now. The guard would certainly end up involved. But with Nemone's distress still echoing in her sense, she could hardly abandon the kid now.

Gods, the fallout was going to monumental.

As, it appeared, was Aren's wrath. At least she hadn't done anything to upset the framework of his healing spells. Even so, he stormed out to her in a fury, his arms thrown wide. "What part of _no magic_ is so hard for you to understand! Do you _want_ to die of a rebounded curse? Look at you, your shoulder is bleeding! Of all the—"

"Aren," Zan interrupted, with quiet but unmistakable authority. "Would you mind getting the door for me?"

Aren gave a sigh of disgust and followed him back up to the house, but by then Kaya was already waiting to usher them inside. She beckoned Seya too. Seya followed them in—what else could she do?

"Zan, bring her into the kitchen while I fetch my bag. Aren, please stop shouting at people and make yourself useful," Kaya directed.

Grumbling, Aren slipped ahead of them both and went to clear off the table. Zan set Nemone in a chair and stepped back so the healers could hover over her, then went to stand next to Seya, who had hung back in the doorway. She avoided his eye. "I hope I didn't interrupt your dinner," she said, glancing at the dishes Aren had put in the sink. A stab of hunger joined the quiver of anxiety-induced nausea in her stomach. Perfect, she thought, clutching her aching left arm. A trifecta of miseries.

"No, we were just cleaning up," he said, eyeing the bright bloom of scarring on her left shoulder, and the bloody scrapes on the right with concern. "Can I get you anything?"

"I'm fine," she muttered.

Kaya took charge of Nemone while Aren prepared disinfectants and pain wards. "I'm Kaya," she said. "I'm a healer. Why don't you tell me your name and what happened?"

Nemone slouched miserably, her eyes fixed on the floor. "M'not saying anything," she mumbled, and tried to scrub at her eyes with her free hand, but only succeeded in smearing bloody tears over her face. She started crying in earnest.

Kaya cleaned up her face and started repairing the bruising. Aren put a pain ward on the back of her neck and stretched her arm out to remove the bandages, scowling down at the cuts. "Who did this?"

"She broke out a window getting away," Seya sighed, when Nemone remained silent. Nemone glared at her.

"So it was an accident?"Aren said. "What about your face?"

Nemone ducked her head, interrupting Kaya's work. Kaya tipped her face back up with gentle insistence. "Won't you let us help you? It's safe here. No one at Halcyon will allow anything to happen to you."

Nemone stubbornly avoided her eyes. "I'm not saying anything," she repeated.

Everyone looked at Seya. She shrugged, forgetting for a moment that she had scraped one shoulder and irritated the mostly-healed curse on the other one. Seeing her wince, Zan pulled out a chair for her and gestured her to sit, which she did, but only because that was better than keeling over in front of everyone.

"There's no point in not telling us," Aren said, bending back to his work on Nemone's arm. "It'll all come out when the guard gets here."

"The guard!" Nemone said, trying to jerk her arm away in her panic. "Why do you have to call them!"

"Because you are a minor child who has been the victim of a crime," Aren said. "It is the law."

"You'll be fine," Zan said. "The guard won't send you back someplace that isn't safe for you. They're there to protect people."

Seya snorted. "Yeah, that's the reason."

"They serve the same function the knights did before the abdication," Zan said, frowning at her.

"And the knights were proper bastards too," Seya said. "I ought to know, I spent enough time in trouble with them when they were in charge of things."

"I wish you wouldn't say such things when we're trying to calm her down." He brought her a dampened towel. She made a face and took it, dabbing at the oozing scrapes on her shoulder.

"That doesn't look too bad," Zan said. "Would you like me to take care of it for you, since Aren and Kaya are both occupied?"

"No! No, it's fine," she said. She didn't want him touching her with her defenses still not quite back to normal. She felt unsettled enough after dealing with Nemone's injuries and then being set upon by Rheta. "It's barely bleeding anyway."

"It's no trouble for me, if that's what you're worried about," he said.

She set her jaw. "Look, Montreides, I realize it's a little ridiculous to be saying this to you after—everything," She put a hand over her face and went on, brusquely, "but I really do not like being touched by people I don't know. And most of the people I do know, if you want to get down to it, so why don't you take your giant savior complex over there and use it on the person who actually needs it."

He retreated, stung by the vehemence of the rejection. Seya winced again, this time out of embarrassment at her outburst. She knew she was being ridiculous. Between the discomfort of the curse and the interference of the pain wards and having two other sets of hands on her and the background noise of the Malthusius arguing in the waiting room, she hadn't had much attention to spare for him, but he had to have gotten an eyeful of her magic.

"Saints and spirits, Seya, just let him help you. You didn't have a problem taking advantage of his kindness last week," Aren said.

His phrasing— _taking advantage of his kindness_ —turned her stomach. She clenched her fists. "I got cursed, I couldn't very well walk around like that. I did try to turn him down," she said, flushing a little at the memory. She had spent a considerable amount of time over the last two days trying not to remember how he'd had his hands on her. "You know why I don't like people touching me, Aren."

Aren looked up from his work with genuine concern this time. "It's still an issue? Dad always thought you'd grow out of it. When Zan told me you let him heal that curse for you, I assumed that was the case."

"Well, I didn't," she muttered. "You should know better than to assume things."

"You should have said something. If I had thought that was still a problem, I'd have made Vico come in and help instead."

"It doesn't matter. Vico was too upset to have been able to help anyway. It's fine, I'm not…upset." That was a lie, everything about that situation still upset her. "But that doesn't give him or anyone else blanket permission to put their hands all over me again if I don't want them to."

Zan glanced between them in bewilderment. "Did I miss something?"

"I told you she has very strong spiritual magic," Aren said. "Problematically strong. She can't block things out of her sense."

"It's—it's not as bad as it used to be," she said, her cheeks burning. She had assumed Aren would have told everyone about this already. It was humiliating to explain how defective her magic was, and the only thing worse than having people chasing after her magic was having them avoid her because they were afraid of what she might do with it. "I finally worked up a set of shields that can keep most things out. It's just—touching—that still—you know." She slouched further.

Aren turned back to his work. "Yeah, I do. It can be a pain to block things out for us while we're working on people too," he conceded. "I'm sure it's not anything on your level of up close and personal, but still."

"Ah…exactly how up close and personal are we talking here?" Zan asked, concern flickering in his eyes.

"I didn't go poking around or anything, if that's what you're worried about," Seya said. "I wouldn't do that." Not on purpose, anyway. DeGraffenreid had made her do some things…pain shot up her arm _. Don’t. Don't think about that now. Say something else._ "You would have been able to tell, anyway. It's shockingly uncomfortable. From both sides."

"Ah, no, I didn't think—I mean, I was worried that I had possibly—triggered you, perhaps. I’m so very sorry—if I had known—"

Seya blinked at him—he looked worried and flustered. Not the reaction she had been expecting at all. "Calm down, Montreides. That didn't have anything to do with you."

"I know a panic attack when I see one. I don't like to think that I may have contributed to that."

"I have…issues. It's nothing to do with you, so just shut up about it already."

He subsided, but he had that look on his face again. Seya looked away so she wouldn't have to see it.

Kaya finished healing the bruises on Nemone's face and sat on the floor in front of her to tend to the scrapes on her knees. Nemone trained her eyes away determinedly, ignoring every entreaty to get her to talk until Kaya gave up trying.

Aren had less patience about it. "This is the girl from the marketplace that Zan told us about, right?" he said. "Seya, you must know something. What is it? Theft ring? Garden variety delinquency? Or just your amazing penchant for dropping trouble on our doorstep?"

"How should I know?," Seya retorted, unwilling to share what little information she had without Nemone's blessing. "I saw her yesterday, I tried to talk to her, gave her Vico's address, she showed up today hurt. And isn't that what Halcyon is here for? The kids who fall through the cracks? Where else I could have taken her?"

"Any of the four temples in town? The guard offices?"

Nemone went pale at that. "Please don't," she said in a small voice. "I don't want to go there."

"Aren," Zan said, repressively. He turned to Nemone. "Seya is correct. Of course we would not turn away anyone who needs help. But it will be much easier to help you if we know what happened."

"I—" Nemone glanced around the room. "I—you're not going to send me to j-jail, or—"

Aren huffed irritably. "If you don't want to get shuffled off to some temple home, maybe you should just tell us what happened."

"Aren, please let me handle this," Zan said. He pulled out a chair and sat across from Nemone, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees so that they were on eye level. "We may have started this conversation the wrong way, so why don't we try again from the beginning? I'm Zandre Montreides," he said. He held his hand out to her. She shook it reluctantly. "I'm Halcyon's bondmaster. You can call me Zan if you like. This is my cousin, Aren Halcyon, and his bond partner, Kaya Alciere. They run the Halcyon clinic. What's your name?"

He was practically radiating that same kindness that had nearly drawn Seya in. It worked even better on Nemone. Her face crumpled, tears trickling down her face again, but she gulped back her sobs and answered. "Nemone."

"Nemone, won't you tell me what happened?" he asked, handing her a tissue. "I promise, no one is going to make you go anywhere you don't feel safe."

"You can't promise that," she said. "Everyone always promises, but no one ever means it. You're just going to turn me over to the guard for stealing your wallet, aren't you?"

"I wouldn't do that," he said, his tone going even more gentle. "Why don't you tell me what you want us to do? Is there someone we can call for you? A family member? Friends you trust?"

"I don't have any family except for—" She broke off, uncertain.

"Just the people who hurt you?" Zan asked.

She nodded, lowering her eyes. "I don't have any friends here," she mumbled. "I've only lived here for a few months, and they didn't register me for school here or—or let me go out much. Only when—" She stopped, shame coloring her cheeks.

"When they wanted you to steal things for them?" Zan asked.

She hunched miserably in her chair, not meeting his eyes. "I guess," she said.

His brow furrowed, but he didn't call her on the obvious lie. "Will you tell me your full name?"

"Anemone Tancerra." She sounded defeated.

"But you prefer Nemone?"

She nodded.

"How old are you, Nemone?"

"Fourteen last month," she said.

Seya dropped her face into her hands, stifling the expletive she couldn't hold back.

"Seya?" Zan asked, glancing to her with concern.

"It's nothing," Seya mumbled into her palms.

"She was fourteen when she was remanded to Halcyon's custody," Aren said. Seya glared at him through her fingers.

"I see," Zan said. Seya transferred her glare to him—he was giving her that look again, the one from the clinic. Zan turned back to Nemone. "What happened to your parents?"

"They died at the end of the war. The Uprisers came through the town where they were working. They—they burned everything," she said, her voice very small.

Burned. _Gods._ DeGraffenreid loved his fucking fire magic. Seya slumped forward, letting her hair form a curtain around her face, to hide the tears of grief and rage welling in her eyes.

"I lived with my grandma until she died last winter, then the Child Welfare Agency sent me to stay with my aunt, but she didn't want me. She went to work in Zelle province in the spring, and dumped me off on her daughter, and they came to Starling a few months ago." She sniffled. Zan moved the tissue box closer to her, then took a few and offered them to Seya.

"Stop looking at me like that, Montreides," Seya snappedjk, sitting up and blinking back the sting of tears. "We're hardly the only two war orphans in the country. I'm sure Aren filled you in on all the tragic details." She shot Aren a scowl, crumpling the tissues in her fist.

Aren rolled his eyes. "I did, actually. It's not like it was a secret. The whole damn town knows what happened to your mother."

There was a tense silence as the two of them glared at each other.

"What happened to your mother?" Nemone ventured.

Seya swallowed down the lump in her throat long enough to say, "The Uprisers killed her.”

"Oh," Nemone said, her eyes growing wide again.

"Yeah," Seya said. "That was a long time ago, so let's just skip over it for now. I'm not the one who needs help here."

Aren snorted. "Just keep telling yourself that."

"Someone should probably go ahead and call the guard," Kaya said.

"Oh, look at the time, I really need to get back before Vico comes home from work," Seya said, bolting up out her chair and heading for the back door, pausing when Nemone gave a little whimper of protest.

"You can't leave, you're a witness!" Aren said.

"And you're still bleeding," Zan objected.

"I did my good deed for the day," Seya said.

"And now you're just going to flake out the way you did before," Aren retorted. "When you abandoned your own bond brother."

She rounded on him furiously. "You mind your own gods damned business! I don't owe you or anyone else here an explanation for what happened!"

"I think you do, actually!" Aren snapped. "Considering the sheer amount of wreckage you left in your wake."

Seya flinched. That was true. She couldn't very well tell him it had been a stupid mistake gone horribly wrong. In the end it was still her fault.

"The guard is already here," Kaya said, gesturing to the window. Outside a guard vehicle pulled to a stop at the front gate, light charms flashing. Seya‘s heart sank—she had hoped to be well on her way by the time they arrived.

"One of the neighbors must have called about the disturbance," Zan said. "I'll go let them in."

"Do you have to?" Nemone asked.

"I'm afraid so," Zan said. "Aren was correct, it is the law. But everything is going to be all right. Will you trust me?"

She looked at him searchingly for a long moment, and then nodded, her eyes dropping back down to the floor.

"Good girl. I'll be right back."

He was intercepted before he reached the door by Adiel, who burst in the kitchen in a state of excitement. "Master Zan, the guard is here!"

"I am aware," Zan said.

Ariel looked past him at Seya and Nemone and his mouth dropped open. "What are those two doing here?"

"It's a long story. Would you please go back upstairs while I deal with this?"

With a hurt look, Adiel cut through the kitchen to the back hall, pausing to scowl at Seya. "This is her fault, isn't it? I knew she was going to make trouble for us."

"Of course it‘s my fault," Seya muttered, not bothering to keep the bitterness out of her voice. "Who else?"

Zan steered him toward the door before he could reply, and the boy disappeared into the hall with a huff, the door swinging shut behind him. Nemone hunched even more miserably with embarrassment. Zan offered her an encouraging smile and a comforting pat on the shoulder before he went to bring the officers in.

"I'm done with your arm, so why don't you move it around a little to make sure there's no discomfort or tightness," Aren said. "Bend it at the elbow—flex your hand—the other way—thank you, try wiggling your fingers. No pain? Stiffness?"

"It's fine," Nemone said.

"Do your knees feel all right, dear?" Kaya asked, wiping the last traces of blood away with a damp cloth.

"Yes, thank you," Nemone mumbled. She stood as she was bidden and paced a few steps to test them out.

"Do you need anything? Water? There's lemonade too."

"Water, please," Nemone said, sitting back down. Her voice got quieter with every answer.

Seya went to the window. Zan spoke to the officers for a few minutes, during which the gate wards were open; it would have been possible to slip away. But one look at Nemone's miserable face, her hands clenched around the mug of ice water, watching the two healers as they cleaned up with a heart-twisting mixture of wariness and hope, and Seya knew she couldn't just leave the poor girl there like she was no more than a sad little errand. She sighed deeply and turned away from the window, wishing devoutly that Vico was there to work whatever silver-tongued magic he had used to persuade the guard officers to leave her alone before. Though it was just as likely to have been Corin's money. She made a face at the thought, then felt a new twinge of guilt. How long before the Malthusius showed up as well?

Aren shot her a scowl. "What, still thinking about bailing?"

Yes. "Not right this second, no," Seya said.

"Do you need to call someone? Vico?"

"I don't know his office sigil," she said. "Damn it, he'll be home soon, he's going to murder me when he sees the mess I left." She rubbed at her face, suddenly exhausted. "I should have left a note or something."

"He didn't give you the dial sigil for his work? I told him—"

"He did. It's sitting right next to the phone in his apartment. What was the point of memorizing it when I was stuck there for the last four days under constant supervision?"

"So you're just an idiot," Aren said.

"Aren!" Kaya scolded.

"No, he's right," Seya sighed. It had never felt truer as Zan led the guard officers into the kitchen.


	23. Unfortunate Legalities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, after a hellacious year and some personal issues, I’ve decided to rearrange my priorities. No, I’m not going to stop posting, even if it always seems like I am, but I’m not going to focus so much effort into building a writing career for now. I’m also taking down the ‘official’ site since cross posting is currently beyond my time and energy. 
> 
> I haven’t been able to write much since last summer, and I had to go off one of my meds after losing my health insurance because it was too expensive (fucking SIX HUNDRED DOLLARS for a three month supply? WTF is American healthcare even, seriously) and it took me the entire month of January to achieve something like my former normal (which honestly wasn’t that great either but still)
> 
> Anyway. Here’s chapter 23, and here’s hoping I can keep things going and eventually complete this monster of a series, or at least the first trilogy. 
> 
> Content warnings: (non-violent) conflict with officers of the law

"Officers Melisande and Wilkan," Zan said by way of introduction. Melisande was a mixed Caldi woman of average height, with a muscular frame, short dark hair just starting to gray at the temples, and an authoritative manner that sent Seya's anxiety into high gear. According to the badges on her jacket, she was obviously ex-military; most of the guard ranks were. Seya desperately hoped she had never been posted in Chelsa, where DeGraffenreid had spent most of his time. It would be just her luck to be recognized by someone who'd seen her working as an aide to Caldona's most notorious war criminal.

Wilkan was younger, trim and brusque, with close-cropped hair and skin a little darker than Zan's. He wore no badges, which meant he was still in training, and he looked far too young to have been a soldier. He posted himself at the door with an air of alert detachment, while Melisande took charge of the room with nothing more than a sweep of her sharp gaze.

Nemone had shut down, curled in on herself and too nervous to be coherent. Zan gave the officers his account of what she had revealed so far, in an effort to give her time to get used to the situation. Melisande sat at the table across from Nemone and tried coaxing her into filling in the rest of the information for some minutes, to no avail. The officer was not pleased.

"She's only anxious," Zan said. "Perhaps we could postpone her interview until she's calmed down a bit?"

Melisande agreed to hold off, instead having the healers give their official statements and fill out a medical report on Nemone's behalf, along with the trace images they had made of her injuries. Melisande sat back in her chair while they worked and looked over Seya, who was standing next to the back door, her arms crossed, her face set into an expression very much like Nemone's.

"You're the one who brought her here." Melisande said.

Seya’s whole body went tense as a bowstring under the officer’s attention. She checked her shields for possibly the tenth time since the officers had walked in. “Yeah.”

"Why don't you tell me what happened in your own words."

Nemone was staring at her, eyes wide and glossy with unshod tears. Seya sighed, averting her gaze, but she couldn’t bring herself to ignore the silent plea. "I saw her in town yesterday. I tried to talk to her, gave her the address where I'm staying in case she needed anything. She turned up today, bruised and bleeding, and whoever hurt her followed, trying to get her back. I brought her here because it was safer and she needed a healer. That's pretty much the sum of my knowledge on the matter."

Melisande's eyebrows went up in a way that set off Seya's internal alarm. She did not like the way the officer looked over her, studying her too-strong shields, her worn and faded clothes, the red bloom of fresh scars on her shoulder. Suspicion flickered blatant in her aura, though her face was deliberately neutral. Seya knew exactly where this was headed before the officer even spoke. She clenched her left hand into a fist beneath her right elbow and tried to calm her racing heart.

"You are also the woman who was also involved in an incident with a young girl answering Miss Tancera’s description five days ago at the Main Street Market?"

"That was me, yeah. Doesn't mean I know anything more."

"This is a remarkably altruistic gesture to make for a girl you met for only a few minutes, under decidedly…unusual circumstances."

"I don't look like the philanthropic type, you mean? Would you have said the same thing to Montreides if he'd been the one to bring her here?"

"Master Montreides was not also involved in an altercation with one of Starling's prominent clan scions—on the same day, in fact—"

"It was a duel," Seya snapped her back straightening in indignation. "A legal one, which took place in a public circle, with a witness. Someone tried to kill my opponent in the middle of it, which I suspect you already know, so don't do that thing where you twist the facts around to make me look worse than I already do."

Melisande smiled faintly. "So you admit that you look suspicious, Miss—?"

"Seya." Like she didn't already know.

"May I see some identification, please."

It was not a question. Seya had to unclench her jaw to answer. "I seem to have misplaced it."

Melisande's eyebrows went up at that. "Misplaced?"

"Things like that happen when you spend a lot of time traveling," Seya said, shrugging.

Melisande produced a small notebook and pen. "What is your full name?"

"It's just Seya."

"Not Seya Malthusius, then?"

Nemone gasped. "You said you weren't!"

"No, not Malthusius," Seya said, unable to keep her disgust hidden. Apparently ten years and a complete restructuring of the entire country's peacekeeping system were not enough for her notoriety to fade away quietly. "If you already know that much, then you should also know I don't have any ties to Malthusius."

"There is a statement on record concerning your…duel with the Malthusius heir, given by a Malthusius bonded who vouched for you, with whom you also appear to have been staying. He has claimed a relation by bond."

Damn it, Vico. He might have mentioned needing to vouch for her. "That has nothing to do with the Malthusius. I don't owe you an explanation of my childhood relationships with people I haven't seen in a decade. I've been back in town less than a week, Officer, I barely have any relationships left here to speak of. I fail to see how this relates to Nemone. Did I break some law while I was helping her?"

"As far as I can tell, you did not. But given your ties to Malthusius, you must admit your arrival has enormous potential for further complications. Unless you want to give me all the particulars yourself, I will have to proceed as my instincts and the guard protocols dictate." She summoned up a thin sheaf of papers between her hands in a quick burst of guard-bonded magic and laid it on the table. "If you would please fill out these forms. You are a witness, Miss Seya, and I'm sure you are familiar with the procedures."

Seya bristled at the implication. "The last time I was in trouble with the law, the knights were still in charge of things."

Melisande's eyebrows went up again in disbelief. "I think you'll find it hasn't changed so much," she said dryly.

Seya did not sit down or accept the pen Zan was offering her. It took all her effort not to shake visibly. "I respectfully decline to be involved in this matter. I've told you everything I know, and as I have no relationship with the victim or anyone involved in the crime, you have no reason to compel me."

"For gods' sakes, Seya, just cooperate for once in your life," Aren hissed at her.

"Cooperate with what? Being treated like a criminal for trying to help a kid out of a bad situation?"

"Does she have a habit of being uncooperative with law enforcement?" Melisande asked.

There was a deeply uncomfortable silence as Aren struggled to find a diplomatic answer to that. "She used to," he admitted.

"What a thing to say," Kaya said, with a note of reproach. "Didn't you tell us she was practically family the other day?"

"It's a matter of record! What am I supposed to do, perjure myself because she spent half her childhood getting into fights with everyone who looked at her crosseyed?" He turned to Melisande. "Really, though, it was mostly shouting at the knights when they came around. She was just a kid then. She fought with the clan kids a lot—usually they were the ones who started it, but she was always the one that ended up in trouble. You know how it was back then. Clans versus unaffiliated, the knights always took the clan side." He glanced at Seya, a note of apology clear in his aura.

She was surprised to hear him defending her after he had spent most of the last five days fussing and lecturing and grumping whenever he saw her. "It's fine. It's all true," she said. Aren relaxed a little. "It was a decade ago, though, and still not relevant to this."

"I'm afraid it is relevant," Melisande said. "There has been a recent rise in anti-clan sentiment, and several violent altercations have taken place in the last year. Two other children have been found dead in relation to these incidents."

Seya felt a chill at hearing that. Nemone sucked in her breath in terror and went deathly pale.

"Both minors with no family to speak of, both of whom had been investigated in criminal mischief cases prior to their deaths. The arrival of a young lady with an axe to grind against the Malthusius, who is on record as having a violent history with the heir to that clan, who is refusing cooperation with an investigation—considering the current political climate of this country, what about this situation am I not supposed to find suspicious?"

Nausea crept in to join the chill. Melisande could only be referring to the resurgence of the Uprisers in the capital. If the guard in Starling started investigating her in earnest, how long would it take for her link to DeGraffenreid to come to light? She swore at her herself silently for not leaving when she’d seen her chance.

"Regardless of your actual intentions, you are involved, Miss Seya. You can cooperate with our investigation as a witness—“ She tapped the papers pointedly. “Or you can come down to the guard station and be interrogated as a suspect."

Seya sat down and took the pen, her eyes snapping with fury. "No good deed," she spat as she started filling in the personal information. She wrote out her statement exactly word for word as she had told it to the officer and shoved the paper across the table at her.

Melisande looked it over, her lips thinning in irritation. "You left off your address."

"I don't have one."

"Your last known address will be fine."

"Let's just say you're in it." Seya waved her hand to indicate the school.

"And the address of the place you gave the child?" Melisande asked. "A Malthusius owned property, I understand."

"That's not my address. I was staying with a friend."

"Your bond brother. A Mr. Vico Rhaimes."

Seya set her jaw. "Former bond brother," she said. "Not formalized, not registered with the Bond Authority. He has no claim on me, nor I on him. He had nothing to do with Nemone, never even met her."

"Yet the Malthusius were apparently looking for her today, according to the statement they gave to us after you fled with the child."

Seya wanted to scream. Why on earth were the Malthusius cooperating with the guard? Vico had told her their relationship was precarious at best. "Presumably they have their reasons," she said through gritted teeth.

"Seya—" Aren began, but fell silent as she shot him a scorching glare.

Melisande filled in the address for Halcyon herself. "We'll be putting you down as a flight risk," she said. "I'm afraid you're going to have to come to the station and have an auric trace done, and considering how uncooperative you prove with that, possibly a restriction. Unless there is someone to vouch for you. Someone besides Mr. Rhaimes, I'm afraid, as you seem to have disclaimed him. He's already a person of interest himself for harboring you despite your apparent antipathy toward his own clan."

"You can't do that!" Seya said, bolting up out of her chair and flinging the pen down.

"I can, and I will," Melisande said, looking up at her coolly.

"You'll try," The words burst out before she could stop herself. Melisande stood in response, calm but with a stern weight coming into her aura. Her hand opened, a faint glimmer of energy rising from the charms on her gloves to pool in her palm. Seya's breath quickened in a burst of fear, which sharpened through her aura before she could suppress it.

"I can vouch for her," said Zan.

Every eye in the kitchen turned to him, with varying degrees of shock.

"You can not!" Seya cried, aghast at the very thought. She turned back to Melisande. "He can't, he's only known me for a week!"

"You're willing to accept responsibility for this young lady's actions, Master Montreides?" Melisande said. She looked rather taken aback herself.

"Yes, as a student of this school," he said.

"That was a decade ago!" Seya said. And she wasn't Halcyon pinnacled, but she didn't want to bring up that subject; it might draw dangerous attention. "I am not a child!"

"Halcyon doesn't have an age limit," Zan said. "You are still listed. I'd just as soon not see an acquaintance of mine arrested for trying to help a child." He looked to Melisande with clear displeasure at the idea. "She deserves better than to be treated like a criminal for it."

"I'm very much afraid there will be no getting around some sort of restriction, Master Montreides," Melisande said. "We will be requiring her to remain in Halcyon's custody for the time being. If she leaves, or causes any trouble, I don't mind telling you the consequences for this school would be considerable."

"I'm sure that is not necessary," Zan said, as Seya turned her disbelieving glare back to him.

"Does the idea of having her here worry you, Master Montreides? You can always rescind your offer,” Melisande said.

"Yes, he does!" Seya said. "I don't need your pity, Montreides."

"It isn't pity," he objected. "It wouldn’t be right to let them take you in for this."

"And trapping me here is somehow better than that?"

He winced. "That was not my intention—"

"Yeah, well, you know what they say about intentions.”

They regarded each other for a long tense moment. Seya thought he was going to back down when he finally looked away, but he only transferred his gaze to Melisande, face set and aura implacable.

"The ultimate choice is yours, of course. You can agree to stay here under Halcyon's watch, or we take you in to the station with us," Melisande said.

Seya took a deep breath against the panic tightening in her chest, wrestling with the looming inevitability of defeat. "Fine. Fine. I'll stay." Zan caught her eye in silent apology. She glared back at him. "What? If you didn't want to get stuck with me you should have kept your mouth shut."

He opened his mouth to say something, but she turned away from him, anger chasing the chill away, at least for the moment, though that would only be a temporary reprieve at best.

“If you will sit, please, Miss Seya,” Melisande said, her tone neutral. She gestured at Wilkan, who shifted from his place in the doorway, producing a restriction tie from one of his pockets. Seya stared at the spell-woven strip of fabric with dread. Vico had been required to wear one after assaulting August Senesca, and even second-hand, the resonance of the magic had not been pleasant. Melisande produced more paperwork and sat back down to fill it out while Wilkan wrapped it around Seya's right wrist.

She recoiled automatically from the harsh magic of the spellwork biting into her sense. Wilkan grasped her wrist to pull her arm back into position so he could finish, his presence blunt and open and utterly lacking the sort of discipline that would have made the contact bearable. His guard bond reminded her painfully of the unwanted military pinnacle. She couldn't help projecting at him, the grip and the obtrusive presence kicking off a violent, reflexive rejection. He gave little yelp and jerked away, from her, the restriction tie fluttering to the floor. Melisande bolted from her chair in alarm.

The room fell silent, tension bleeding from everyones' auras. Seya didn’t miss Melisande quietly working up a piece of restraining spellwork, holding it at the ready but not completing the casting. They regarded each other warily. After a long quiet moment, Seya took a shaky breath and lowered her gaze, holding her hand back out to Wilkan. "I think you can put that on without touching me."

He stared at her for a moment, a wide-eyed and somewhat stunned look that she found uncomfortably familiar. Slowly, he retrieved the tie, fastening it around her wrist with trembling hands, taking the utmost care to avoid further skin contact. When he was done he went back to the kitchen door and stood, his detached demeanor gone. He kept looking over at her and then back down at his hand. Seya supposed the man had never been on the receiving end of an angry high spiritualist. People tended to discount spiritual magic in a fight, since its use was largely defensive, but it some ways could be more damaging than elemental energy; it was simply that very few people had it at levels high enough to cause that type of damage. Melisande sat back down and let the defensive spell she had summoned through her guard bond dissipate.

Seya stared down at her right wrist. The feeling of the restriction against her skin was every bit as oppressive as Wilkan's touch, and so was the way everyone was either staring at her or carefully not looking at all. The panic solidified into a painful tightness her chest. Without conscious thought, she found herself on her feet, making blindly for the door that led out to the kitchen garden.

"Young lady, we are not done here," Melisande said.

Seya took a ragged breath. "I need some air, if that's all right with the government according to General Raechs," she spat, resenting the way her voice shook. She flung the door open and stalked out.

❀

The sound of the slamming door reverberated through the kitchen. Zan flinched, and Nemone looked terrified again.

Melisande gestured for Wilkan to go after Seya to keep an eye on her. He swallowed hard and headed for the door.

"That is not necessary," Zan said quietly. "The wards are shut. She can't go anywhere for the moment."

Melisande appeared to consider this. "She might be able to get through them," Wilkan ventured. "That restriction—I don't think it could actually hold her. She—" He paused, clearly unnerved. "I think her levels must be really high."

"They are, actually," Aren said. "She's probably the highest level spiritualist in the country outside a temple…" He trailed off as both Zan and Kaya turned to him with matching expressions of consternation. "I making a point! Look, she was cursed half to death last week, which I'm sure you know, and it was badly rebounded, too. She still has a few more days of treatment before she's completely cleared of it, so she's in no shape to be busting down the wards, even if she was capable of tolerating the dissonance of something so destructive. I'm sure this mess will be cleared up before her treatment is done, and it's not like she has anywhere else to go in the meantime, except back to Vico's place."

Melisande made a note of that. "Just to be clear, you do mean Vico Rhaimes?"

Aren sighed. "Yes. Look, if it comes down to it, I…I'll vouch for her too. I've known her the longest. She was a student here since she was practically an infant, we grew up together. She's an idiot with a hair-trigger temper, but she's not a bad person, or a criminal, despite her record."

Melisande made a note of that as well. "I sincerely hope that neither of you will have cause to regret such generosity."

"Yeah, me too," Aren muttered, as she pushed the paperwork over for him and Zan to sign.

Nemone shrank back as the officer's attention turned back to her. "Young lady, I don't think I need to tell you how much danger you are in. You heard what I said about the deaths."

"Yes ma'am," Nemone said, her voice very small.

"Do you have anything you'd like to tell me now?"

"I don't know anything about them," Nemone said. "I didn't—my—the people looking after me—"

"Your cousin and her husband," Melisande said.

"Y-yes," Nemone said.

"If you won't talk to us, then you'll have to come to the station. We'll need to arrange for protective custody for you while we look up the rest of your family," Melisande said.

Nemone did start crying again at that. She looked up at Zan. "I don't want to go, don't make me go! You promised!"

Zan went to stand next to her chair and put his hand on her shoulder. "It's fine if you can't talk yet," he said, with a brief frown at Melisande when the officer opened her mouth to object. "We all understand that this has been a very difficult time for you, that you're frightened. It's fine." He looked back up at Melisande. "She's welcome to stay here while everything is being worked out, as long as she needs. I'm even willing to foster her if no suitable family can be found."

"You're accepting responsibility for this child as well?" Melisande asked.

"As bondmaster of this school, it is within my rights to offer her a place here. Halcyon has a longstanding record of fostering children in this type of situation." He looked down at Nemone. "Would you like that? I don't just mean for tonight, I mean as a student of this school." She stared up at him, open mouthed. "You don't have to answer just yet. Some food and a good night's sleep will make you feel better. You can decide then."

She scrubbed at her face. "W-what about—" She glanced at Melisande warily, obviously not wanting to bring up the fact that they'd only met because she'd been trying to steal from him.

"There was no harm done," Zan said gently. "We're not blaming you for something you were forced into, either by the people who should have been protecting you or just bad circumstances."

She dropped her eyes again. "It's really okay?"

"Of course."

She finally nodded.

"Very well, then," Melisande said. "It's a little irregular, but it's too late in the evening to notify the Child Welfare Agency about this now, and as Halcyon does have an excellent reputation in this regard, I suppose it will do no harm to leave off the formalities until tomorrow. I'll be back. Let's say ten tomorrow morning? Does that work for you, Master Montreides?"

"Yes, that's fine."

Melisande produced yet more forms. He filled them out and handed them back to her, his eyes flicking uncertainly toward the back window. Seya was still visible in the kitchen garden, leaning on the wall at the far end, facing away. He couldn't get a sense of her emotional state through those shields of hers, but the way the resonance in the gardens was reacting to her made it clear she was still upset.

"It's not too late for you to rescind your offer to vouch for her," Melisande said mildly. "If either of you were having second thoughts." She eyed Aren, who was collecting the remaining detritus from treating Nemone's injuries.

"She's practically family," he grumbled, shrugging as he dumped the whole mess into the sink and fetched a fire charm from the oven so he could dispose of the bloody residue properly.

"I'm not going to change my mind," Zan said. He retrieved Seya's shirt from the sink before Aren could burn it with the rest and put it aside before escorting the officers out.

"You're unhappy with how I handled this," Melisande said as she stood at the gate, waiting for him to open the wards.

"I believe I stated my objections clearly enough."

"Some of us do not have the luxury of optimism, Master Montreides. I must put the safety and stability of this city first. You must admit the circumstances are suggestive."

"I can see how they would be," Zan said. "But I have also seen her step in to help a child in a terrible situation, twice, despite great trouble to herself, and she has also saved the life of a man at great risk to her own, which would be enough of an endorsement of her character even if I wasn't aware that she spent a great deal of her childhood in conflict with him, his family and his clan. Surely these are not the actions of someone intent on sowing discord."

"I will be very pleased if you prove to be correct," Melisande said. "But there are procedures to follow. And considering what I've heard about this girl, you'd be wise to keep some sort of distance. Magic like that—trouble follows it around like a magnet. You wouldn't be the first person to be caught by it." She glanced at her partner, who looked up from his hands, a guilty flush showing faintly under his dark skin at her implication. "I gather the girl was somewhat notorious for that sort of thing."

"People do not choose the magic they're born to," Zan said, the words coming out a bit more sharply than he intended. "Nor should they be forced to bear the responsibility of other people's reactions to it. If her magic is as…burdensome as I have reason to believe, then that is more a reason to offer her Halcyon's aid than deny it." And if he was thinking not just of Seya, but of himself as a young boy, forced into the cold halls of the Montreides estate because of his own early-awakened magic, by people with far more care for its use than its needs—well. Halcyon had been there for him when his life had come crashing down around him because of it, and he would not—could not turn down a chance to pay that grace forward. Especially not when Halcyon itself was clamoring for it. Seya's mere presence was lighting the resonances as if she belonged there, though he doubted anyone not bonded to the magic would have noticed.

At least not yet.

Melisande could make no objection to his statement. She made a sound of polite acquiescence and allowed Zan to direct the conversation back to arrangements for the security of the school. He was sure Halcyon's wards were enough to keep out anyone bent on trouble, but given the circumstances, he did not want to take any chances, and readily agreed to having a more visible guard presence, including a car out in front of the school for the night, in case Nemone's relatives showed up again. After they left, he spent some time redirecting energy from the Halcyon bond to further strengthen the protections before going back inside.

❀

From his vantage point on the tiny landing in front of Vico's apartment, Jayen scowled over the scene on Jack Street. Canto was sitting on the curb, being tended by Healer Dane for a vicious series of gashes across their face and shoulder, inflicted by the man his people had identified about an hour ago as Arton Talles—information that had not come soon enough to prevent this from becoming a disturbance of note. The car Canto had been occupying before the attack was severely dented and shoved up over the curb, having been careened into by whomever had shown up to help the injured Talles escape. Micah was conferring with one of the pair of guard officers who had shown up, while the other poked about with forensic spellwork, making trace images of the scene.

Jayen turned back to the open door. Rena sat at the table in front of the bloody towels, her face set in concentration. Using the blood traces, she had already managed to give them the location where the kid had come from. That information had gone to the guard, because they had arrived first, and also because the incident involved a minor with no direct ties to the clan, which meant he had to either fight over jurisdiction with them or cooperate. With Seya having disappeared, he didn't have time for the former.

Now Rena was trying to trace the girl herself, which was not working. "Something is blocking the trace," she said, finally looking up. "She must be in a warded area. Temple maybe."

"Or Halcyon," Jayen said. That had been his first suspicion. He had said as much to the guard, but he hadn't wanted to waste time running around town if Rena could tell him for sure. "We're sure it was just the kid hurt, right?" He wasn't at all confident in his ability to read blood traces, which required good spiritual sense, and his most assuredly wasn’t—but none of it felt like Seya.

"None of it's Seya's," Rena said for the second time, and they had been friends long enough that she was perfectly comfortable letting the exasperation come through in her tone. "I know it's been forever but I haven't forgotten what her damn magic feels like. No one could forget it."

Micah came into the apartment. "It's cleared down there," he said, waving behind himself to indicate the crime scene. "We can take the car away now. And there's another officer here, she wants to talk to you."

"Did they find Vico yet?" Jayen asked. That was the other reason he was staying put for the moment. Jayen couldn't ping him, and Micah had not been able to either. The bastard must have taken off his sigil again. Jayen took some comfort in the fact that if something drastic had happened to him it would still be felt in the clan bond, but it still made him antsy not knowing.

"No, but I have a clan-wide alert out. Someone's bound to see him." He stepped into the apartment, the guard officer behind him.

She paused in the door, her eyes sweeping the room behind Jayen before settling on him. "Young Master Malthusius. I am Senior Officer Lenna Melisande, and I need to speak to Mr. Rhaimes, if he is in."

"He's not," Jayen said. "I don't know where he is. When I find him I'll tell him you were here. Now if you don't mind, we're busy."

"Yes, I'm sure you are," Melisande said, glancing back at the mangled car still sitting half on the sidewalk below. "Please inform Mr. Rhaimes that his bond sister is currently on voluntary restriction at Halcyon."

"Of course she went to Halcyon," Jayen muttered, turning to Micah. "I knew it."

"You want me to send someone over there to talk to her?"

"No, I'll go myself." He turned back to Melisande, who hadn’t moved.

"I don't suppose you would mind informing me why the Malthusius are being targeted by these Talles people?" Melisande said.

"We're investigating them in connection with an act of sabotage against one of our affiliates," Jayen said. "I gave all this information to the other officers already."

"I have been given charge over this investigation, so if you wouldn't mind indulging me, Young Master. What about the child?"

"I don't know anything about the kid. Seya ran into her last week. She asked us to keep an eye out."

Melisande's eyebrows went up. "Are you in the habit of performing favors for the illegitimate sister who disclaims her connection to Malthusius?"

Jayen huffed irritably. "It wasn't a favor to her. It was a favor to Vi—to Mr. Rhaimes," he said

Melisande cast another look around the humble apartment, one eyebrow raised. She didn’t need to ask if he was in the habit of performing favors for his disgraced exes; the doubt was pretty clear.

Jayen set his jaw. "I would prefer to keep cooperating with your investigation, as long as we remain in the loop," he said, coldly formal. "I've already had two attempts on my life, and our territory is being threatened, our affiliates sabotaged. We have reason to believe Danton Miredes, who is already being investigated on these issues, has connections to Talles."

"We would be happy to discuss the issue with you in greater detail in the morning," Melisande said. "Tomorrow morning, seven o'clock?"

Jayen nodded. When she was gone, he and Micah headed for Halcyon.

"You're father isn't going to be happy with you cooperating with them," Micah said.

"Then don't tell him," Jayen said.

"You're still fighting with him?"

"How can I be fighting with him when he hasn't spoken to me all day?"

"You do realize your sister, the one you were always worried about replacing you, is back now?"

"She's not going to join the clan," Jayen said. "If she was, she'd have brought the kid to us."

Micah shrugged. "She did ask us for help. You know everybody has their price."

Jayen scowled at him. "She's Halcyon's, always has been."

Micah was silent for a long moment, studying him thoughtfully. "The bond is still there," he finally said.

"Shut up."

"Is that why you're ignoring your father? Did he notice yet, or were you still trying to keep it under wraps?"

"Of course he didn't notice," Jayen snapped. "That would require looking at me for some reason other than to shout at me for screwing something up."

"I hate to be the one to point this out, but you do have a habit of bucking against his authority at every turn," Micah said. "Maybe it's time to tone that down, play at being the good son."

"You think I haven't been trying? You know perfectly well why we don't get along. He's a domineering bastard who's always thought of me as a failure in waiting. I thought after he finally named me heir, brought me into the high tier we’d...but he just wanted to micro-manage my every move. Well, I'm not going to be his fucking puppet. Or Vico's either," he added, when Micah started to open his mouth. "I did consider that angle, Micah. I know how he is. I've watched him play people for more than half my life. I might not see it coming, but I know enough to look."

It was not a happy admission. Micah shrugged and stayed quiet for the remainder of the drive.


	24. Conciliation, With a Side of Anger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I managed to get this chapter up within an hour of the scheduled time! Go me!
> 
> Content warnings: brief mentions of child abuse, discussions coercion from llaw enforcement officials, and a small outburst of violence.

When Zan returned to the kitchen, he found Kaya had brought Nemone an assortment of clean clothes. Nemone picked through them with a listless air, sorting her selections into a pile on the table. "Whose are these?" she asked, holding up a shirt several sizes too large for her tiny frame.

"There are boxes and boxes full of clothes left over from other foster students in the storeroom," Aren said.

"Are there more of them now? Fosters, I mean," she asked, with a little quiver of anxiety.

"For now there’s only Adiel," Zan said.

"Oh, that boy," she said, setting the shirt back down. "I don't think he liked me being here. He…he lives here?"

"He does," Zan said. "He's a good kid. Once he understands the details, I'm sure you two will get along just fine. Why don't you go try some of these on, see what fits, and tomorrow we can see about getting you some things of your own. There's a bathroom through there, second door on the right," he said, pointing to the hall door.

As she was gathering up the clothes from her pile, the door swung open and Adiel poked his head in. "Can I come in now? I saw the guard leave."

"Yes," Zan said. "Say hello to our new foster."

Adiel’s face went slack with surprise. "She's…staying here?"

Nemone stiffened, bristling at him reflexively. "Yeah, so?"

He glanced from her to Zan, eyes round with disbelief.

"Nemone, this is Adiel Santos," Zan said, with a stern look at the boy over the top of her head. "Adiel, this is Anemone Tancerra. She prefers Nemone. She's been through a great deal recently, so I expect you to look after her and help her get settled here."

"I—uh, yes, of course. It's nice to meet you, Nemone," Adiel said, too shocked by this turn of events to keep his doubt from showing.

The corners of Nemone's lips turned down at the obviously obligatory politeness. "Yeah, same," she mumbled, making a wide arc around him on her way out the door.

When it had shut behind her, Adiel looked up at Zan in horror. "She tried to steal your wallet!"

"Yes, she did, and that is the last I want to hear about it from you. Any further discussion about that incident will be between her and myself, is that clear?" Zan said.

"I—yes," Adiel said, flushing a little at the rebuke.

Zan patted him on the shoulder. "Good. Why don't you go upstairs and get one of the empty rooms in the student wing ready for her?"

"Okay," Adiel said, and he left to do that, shoulders hunched.

Which left Zan with Kaya and Aren. Kaya wore a knowing and slightly amused expression, while Aren was clearly annoyed. "I am sorry," Zan said. "I know I ought to have discussed the possibility of taking on another foster with the two of you before making the offer." As Halcyon's bonded, they were equally responsible for any fostered children in the eyes of the law, and Zan half expected Aren to object.

"No one in this room was expecting otherwise, dear," Kaya said. "I am happy to do my part, of course. Personally, I like the idea of having more people here."

Aren scowled. "Of course I've no objection to another foster, but damn it, Zan! Did you have to go and vouch for Seya too? That girl is a train wreck waiting to happen. Has been all her damn life. I think I warned you to stay out of her way."

"You just vouched for her yourself," Zan pointed out.

"I did, but I've known her practically my whole life! What's your excuse?"

"Savior complex," Kaya said.

"I don't have a savior complex," Zan said, frowning at her.

Aren snorted. “Yeah, keeping saying that,” he said, as at the same time Kaya retorted, "You absolutely do.”

Zan furrowed his brow at them briefly, then gave a sigh, glancing toward the back door. "I should go talk to Seya. I'm afraid I've upset her. Again."

"Would you rather I to talked to her?" Kaya asked. "I feel like we have become somewhat friendly over the last few days. More so than some I could name." She cast Aren a mildly reproachful look.

"It's not my fault, she just does that to people!" Aren said. "You should have seen the way she and Jayen would go after each other when they were kids. You'd think they enjoyed shouting at each other."

"What an excuse," Kaya said. "You aren't a child anymore. You should be able to control yourself regardless of how someone else's aura strikes you. I think she's a sweet girl. She can be very charming to people who aren't needling her about her family problems."

Aren rolled his eyes. "She does that to people too," he said. He shot Zan a look. "You should keep that in mind. You're definitely the susceptible type."

"That is not what happened today," Zan protested, but Aren just exhaled loudly, zipped up his healer's kit, and carried it out to the foyer to hang it back up next to the door.

"That boy is too much like his mother," Kaya said, shaking her head.

Zan agreed. Winter had never been one to keep an opinion to herself. He went to the sink and started washing Nemone's blood out of Seya’s shirt. It took some minutes and great deal of purifying water energy to remove the traces that remained. That was why most people preferred fire, but Zan felt it was the least he could do.

"I told Nemone I would sleep here tonight in case she needs anything, so I'm going to go put fresh sheets in whatever room is next to hers," Kaya said.

"That will be a huge help, thank you," Zan said, examining his work critically before pulling the dampness out of the threadbare fabric with a sharp gesture. It swirled down the drain, leaving the shirt dry.

"Do you want me to talk to Seya first?"

"No, I should talk to her myself," he said. "I'm not really sure how I keep doing the exact wrong thing. But she seemed so—so hopeless that first time I saw her. I just wanted to help." He gave a deep sigh. "I should have asked if she wanted my help first. I need to apologize, I think."

Kaya patted his arm. "I don't think you've done anything that needs apologizing for. I think she's just…not great at accepting help from people. There's a story there, I'm sure, but so far she's elided all my efforts to bring it up."

"I wouldn't like to pry into something that she doesn't want to share."

"Maybe if she's staying here, she'll open up a little more. I think that would be good for her. If nothing else, Halcyon's magic will be good for the remainder of her recovery. She certainly has lit up the resonances, hasn't she? I wonder if it's just recognition," she mused.

Zan doubted that himself.

Nemone came back into the kitchen, wearing a clean but slightly rumpled t-shirt and a pair of jeans that fit her well enough, the rest of the clothes she had chosen folded into a rough bundle in her arms.

"Don't you feel better now?" Kaya asked.

"I guess," Nemone said, eyes fixed firmly on the floor. "Um—I didn't know what to do with the stuff that didn't fit?"

"I'll put it back in the storeroom later," Zan said. "Kaya, will you take her upstairs and show her where to put her things?"

"Of course. Come along, dear. You're going to like it here, I promise," Kaya told her, putting a comforting arm around the girl’s shoulders.

Zan hoped that was true. He gave his new ward one last reassuring smile as Kaya led her out of the kitchen, then headed outside.

Seya was slumping over the garden wall with her face in her hands. Zan took a spot next to her, a respectful arm's length away, which was the average sense range of a high spiritualist wearing courtesy shields. Hers were much denser than that, but he thought it prudent to set an appropriate boundary on her behalf, considering what he had learned about her magic.

She straightened a little, dropping her hands and folding her arms across the top of the wall, pressing her hands firmly against the stone, though not before Zan caught the way they shook. Her face was set into the stiff expression of someone who was deeply upset and trying not to let it show, her breathing too deep and deliberate to be natural.

"Should I ask one of the healers to come out here for you?" he asked. "Kaya is very good with panic attacks."

"No, it'll pass. It always does." Her voice sounded brittle.

Zan set her shirt down on the wall next to her. "I thought you might be more comfortable with this."

She gave him an incredulous look, but after a long moment, she picked it up and shrugged it on. "Thanks," she said.

"I really am very sorry," Zan said. "This is not what I meant to happen when I offered to vouch for you."

She gave a sharp, bitter laugh. "I should hope not. It's tantamount to government sponsored kidnapping."

Zan shifted uncomfortably, looking out over the view from the wall with troubled eyes. "Of course I would not force you to stay here against your will." It was a pained concession, torn between the letter of the law and his own conscience.

"Yeah, that'd be a great way to repay a man who's done nothing but help me every single time I've met him," she said, hunching her shoulders.

He glanced at her in surprise. "I don't consider that you owe me anything. I haven't done anything I wouldn't have expected of any other decent person. It's fine—"

"It's not fine," Seya interrupted. "You defied the most powerful man in town on my behalf and then helped save my life, and I was rude and ungrateful, and now I've put myself in a position where I have to either impose myself on your kindness or risk your good name. And I'm sorry. I meant to keep my troubles away from this place, I just—I didn't have anywhere else to bring her."

"There's nothing to forgive," Zan said. "It's all the more understandable now that I know you have good reason to object to the—ah—the intrusion. And I am very glad you brought Nemone here. It bothered me, not knowing what had happened to her. I regretted not going after her myself that day."

Seya studied the wall under her hands. "Understandable, maybe, but I still should have thanked you, at least. So thank you."

"You are quite welcome," Zan said. "But that does not excuse my part in inadvertently trapping you here."

She straightened, rolling her eyes. "Look, Montreides, if anyone's to blame for that, it's me, for being such a damn hellion growing up, and not being able to keep my mouth shut now. I'm sure Aren has already filled your head with tales of my horrible teenage delinquency."

"He may have told us a few stories," Zan admitted. "And delinquent isn’t the word I’d use to describe you.” She snorted at that. “But still. I have a little influence with the city administration. I'm sure if I went to talk to them tomorrow I could at least persuade them to transfer the restriction to your bond-brother's household."

"No, don't waste any of your goodwill with the city administration on me. I can't just leave this thing with Nemone for someone else to fix, anyway. If I can find out what happened with her family and get this settled, the guard won't have any reason to keep me here."

"I'm sure once Nemone calms down and realizes she's safe here, she'll be able to tell us enough about her problems that the guard will be able to sort it out themselves," Zan said.

Her expression made it very obvious where her opinion of the guard's abilities lay.

"Are you hungry?" Zan asked. "I can make you something."

"Maybe in a little while," she said, her eyes dropping back down to her hands. She fiddled with her shirt cuff, twisting the restriction tie over the thin, faded fabric in an effort to get it off her skin.

"Is there anything I should do? While you're staying here?"

"Just keep your hands to yourself and you'll be fine," she said. "I told you, I wouldn't—"

"No, I meant for you. To make you more comfortable?"

"You mean other than keeping your hands to yourself? No, not a lot."

Zan winced. He was acquainted with the experience of getting uncomfortably close to other people's feelings, but he had been a child then. It was an unfortunate part of the territory for people with early onset spiritual magic. He had grown out of that phase fairly quickly himself, but not everyone did. And he had been dwelling rather deeply on his life in Castiverre since he'd first seen her. Those old memories were enough to upset anyone. Of course she wouldn't want to be exposed to them again. "I hope I haven't given you the impression that I routinely put my hands all over new acquaintances as a rule. That was rather an extraordinary set of circumstances."

"No, you're definitely the type who likes to buy them dinner first," she said, with a slight smirk. "Oh, but you did just offer to feed me, though."

He was taken slightly off guard by the change of tone, but only for a moment. "That is true. One more black mark against my trustworthiness, I daresay."

"Two," she said. "You offered to feed me last week too." That made him smile, but then the guarded expression came back to her face. "Please, if there is anything you need—if you don't know your bond brother's dial sigil, I could take a message to him myself."

"No," she sighed. "I don’t want to put you out that way. I'm sure someone will be along directly to check on me. Everyone knows this is the only other place I would come in Starling. Speak of the devil," she said. Zan straightened as he felt the tell-tale shiver of the gate wards opening and closing. Seya's expression went stiff and irritated, and a moment later Adiel came out the kitchen door, and storming along behind him was Jayen.

"What are you doing here?" she asked as Zan regarded him with bemusement and a little irritation of his own. Jayen's clear lack of restraint with his spiritual magic was already upsetting the resonances.

"I could ask the same thing! Don't take clan business to our rivals, especially not this rundown joke of a school!"

Adiel gave an outraged gasp. Zan's lips quirked into a humorless smile. "I did not realize you considered us as rivals, Mr. Malthusius," he said dryly.

Jayen shot him a flat look before turning back to Seya. "That girl's been linked to the people who are sabotaging us. You should’ve brought her to me. We could have taken care of this business ourselves, without involving the guard."

"Technically, it's the guard's job to do that now," Seya said.

"And they're doing a bang up job, aren't they, letting some small time schoolteacher who was rejected by his own clan look after the only witness!"

Zan regarded him rather coldly at that, but before he could say anything himself, Seya had stormed up to Jayen, fury radiating out from her aura. "Don't you dare talk that way about anyone at Halcyon!" she snapped.

The two of them glared at each other. Zan observed that they did not have much family resemblance. Aside from the color of their eyes and a certain squarish set to their cheekbones, neither looked enough like their father or each other to be recognized as blood by a casual observer. The similarities were mostly in their personalities: sharp tongues and quick tempers and brick wall stubbornness, and a little clashing spark that lit in their auras as soon as they saw one another. It did not seem like either one would give in, but then Jayen set his jaw and said, in a tone that was not quite civil but at least not outright hostile, "The guard said you were on voluntary restriction, here. Why would you even agree to that? At least get yourself restricted to Vico's place."

"It wasn't anything like voluntary," Seya said. "What do you want?"

Jayen glanced at Zan again with an unfriendly prickling in his aura. "Not in front of him," he snapped.

Seya rolled her eyes. "What do you think he's going to do? He's a teacher, not some magic-mad petty tyrant!"

"It's clan business!"

"If you prefer privacy I can go inside," Zan said.

"Please," she said, exasperated.

Zan nodded. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need anything." He went back inside, gesturing for Adiel to come along with him.

❀

"Arrogant coward," Jayen growled under his breath as the back door shut behind the two of them.

"He's not a coward, and you sure as hell don't have any room to talk about arrogance," Seya retorted. "Tell me what you want or go the fuck away."

"You should have just let us take care of this! I could have cleared this mess up without you getting restricted."

"I don't need anything from Malthusius," she snapped. Then she frowned at him, the thin threads of their fledgling bond flickering in her sense. Was he—worried about her? That couldn't be right. Saving her life was one thing, and the bond still hanging on was another—blood ties did not fade easily—but for him to actually be worried about her was vaguely unsettling. "What do you want?" she asked more calmly.

His eyes narrowed suspiciously at her sudden change of tone. "I came to check on you, obviously. Vico would kick my ass if anything happened to you on my watch."

Of course that was the reason. Seya rolled her eyes at herself for thinking it could be anything else. "I'm fine. They won't let me go back to Vico's place because someone decided he's a person of interest. Apparently my entirely justified loathing of Malthusius makes his harboring me suspect."

"That's fucking ridiculous," Jayen said. "If they know that much, they ought to know about the damn bond."

"They knew," she said. "But it's not an official thing that they can hang a restriction on."

"But they can hang it on Halcyon?"

"Apparently I'm still listed as a student," she said. "You didn't come all the way here just to check on me. What do you really want?"

"What happened? I've only had the report from my people, and that's not much."

"The kid's name is Nemone, and she was staying with some relatives who weren’t treating her very well. She broke a window to escape, got spooked by Rena on the way to Vico's place. Her cousin's husband attacked the place trying to get her back. I brought her here. We got attacked on the way by her cousin."

"Rheta Talles?" he said.

She frowned up any him. "It sounds like you already know more than I do. What have you learned?"

"The man who attacked at Windack is Arton Talles, married to Rheta Talles. Rena used the blood traces you left from cleaning the kid's injuries to find out where they were staying, a rental property on the southeast edge of town. Grungy little hole of a place, according to the people I sent out to check on it. They're from some county up north. My people had him down, but he had allies, someone in a car came tearing up the street, blasted Canto and got away with Talles."

"Is Canto all right?" Seya asked, with a pang of guilt.

"They're fine." Jayen said.

"Good." Even if Canto was Malthusius, they didn't deserve to get hurt because she was an idiot who was constitutionally incapable of minding her own business.

"We linked Talles to another open case through the vehicle, so we're officially cooperating with the guard. If you had just stayed put, you might have avoided this whole mess." He waved to indicate the school.

"Yes, being trapped here is so much worse than being trapped in Vico's matchbox of an apartment. What did he say about this?"

"If I had been able to find him before I came here I'd have asked him," Jayen said.

"You couldn't find him?" Seya asked with a spark of alarm. She reached reflexively for their bond, but it was too weak to reach through Halcyon's closed wards, much less across the town to try to find him. "Where could he be? You don't think—"

"He was sent out on a mediation job, according to his department head, but he left his bond sigil in his desk, so no one's been able to ping him. One of these days I'm going to find out how he does that," Jayen said irritably. "No one else can avoid being pulled into the clan bond that way."

"He's good at deflecting. That's what made him such a reliable anchor. Why are you here fussing at me when you could be out finding him?"

Jayen made a bitter face. "I have my people watching for him. But this is my job. I need to speak to the kid. She's the only witness, and I need to know what her family was up to."

"She wouldn't even talk to the guard," Seya said. "She's definitely not going to talk to a Malthusius. She was terrified half to death when she thought your people were after her. Anyway, she's in Halcyon's custody now, so I'm not the one you need to ask."

“Well, fuck,” Jayen muttered.

"Should have been more polite then, shouldn't you," Seya said.

"This is ridiculous. There's no reason to deny a request for an interview."

"No, just a traumatized child whose guardians were smacking her around for months."

He started, some of the color going out of his face, his scowl falling away. "I'll come back tomorrow then."

Seya watched him a moment. "It still bothers you that much?" she asked.

"Of course it bothers me," he snapped, his expression snapping back to its usual glower. "How could it not still bother you?"

"I still have nightmares about it sometimes," she said. "His face—" She couldn't even finish the thought. She had still been unconscious when Winter brought Vico back to Halcyon that day, but she had seen some of the damage his father had inflicted before Dalen was done healing it up, had felt the bone-deep hurt that could only come from a fifteen year old boy absorbing the knowledge that his father really would have beaten him to death. Even being estranged from his father for years at the time, it had not been an easy thing for Vico to deal with.

They had a moment of silent solidarity, because the fact that Trevin Rhaimes should have been more thoroughly punished for that was the one thing they could agree on unequivocally.

It was a short moment. Jayen made an impatient noise in his throat and said curtly, "There's no damn reason for you to have to stay here. I'll go talk to the guard. If they don't like it, they can have it out with our lawyers in the morning."

"I'm not leaving. This is my responsibility, and I'm not abandoning Nemone until she's secure here, and I'm not accepting anymore Malthusius help, either. If you're done talking, you should go. Maybe apologize to Montreides first, though," Seya said, and she went back inside.

Zan was standing at the stove, making a pot of herbal tea, the spicy, minty smell of it filling the kitchen. Seya jolted to a halt under a rush of nostalgia it invoked—that particular blend had been Dalen's favorite. "Is everything all right?" he asked, his eyes flicking to the door as Jayen stalked into the kitchen after her, his aura a tangle of strong emotions. Adiel moved to the other side of the room, wary.

Aren, sitting at the table impressing memory charms for his own records, sat up to scowl at Seya and then Jayen, but before he could say anything, Jayen started in again. "You can't be serious," he said. "Vico is going to be mad as hell if I don't bring you back."

"Vico isn't my mother," Seya snapped, the tension she'd been trying to suppress flaring into genuine anger. "And neither are you—"

"No, your mother wanted to leave you here!"

Seya felt as if she'd been punched, guilt and grief and raw fury sparking out, slamming through the bond right, staggering him backwards into the counter. Then she hit him, a solid punch to the jaw. Caught completely by surprise by the double blow, he staggered backwards into the cabinets hard enough to rattle the dishes inside. "How dare you even talk about my mother after what the Malthusius did to her, you son of a bitch!"

Jayen's touched his jaw where she had hit him, eyes wide. Even Seya was a bit shocked at herself; she'd never been one for physical attacks, not when magic came so easily to her. Remorse flickered, unbidden, in their bond, but that was not enough to calm her, and he didn't apologize.

Zan moved between them. "I'm afraid I must ask you to leave, Mr. Malthusius," he said.

"Like I want to be here," Jayen snarled, and shoved past Zan, out of the kitchen. The front door slammed shut behind him.

"I do hope this doesn't cause trouble with the officers outside," Aren said.

Seya went to the window. There was a Malthusius car out across the road, parked near the patrol vehicle, and Micah was talking to the officers, who did not seem unduly alarmed by the Malthusius presence.

"I suppose that's to be expected," Zan said with a sigh, shutting the wards back behind Jayen. "The Malthusius still maintain a great deal of influence over local politics."

"He said they were cooperating with the investigation," Seya said, subdued. She sank down onto a chair, rubbing her hand. "Sorry. I shouldn't have lost my temper. Again."

"Would it count as another strike against me if I said I found that a tiny bit satisfying?" Zan asked. "Not that I'm condoning violence," he added, as Adiel and Aren both turned to him in shock. "But he was terribly rude."

"Gods, I've been here what, an hour? And I've already corrupted you to this degree. You should probably kick me out now. I'll go with the guard quietly this time," she sighed, not entirely joking.

"I don't think that will be necessary," Zan said, with the barest hint of a smile. "But I would appreciate it if you refrained from assaulting anyone else while you're here."

"It'll be fine as long as no one else talks about my mother," she said.

"I'll bear that in mind. Shall I go prepare you a room for tonight?" he asked.

She sighed. "I suppose that would be the thing to do. Thank you."

"Think nothing of it," Zan said. "Adiel, if you wouldn't mind helping me."

She watched him leave from the corner of her eye. Aren gave her a hard look. "What?" she said testily.

"Nothing," he said. "Do you want me to look at your shoulder before I go back to my house, or are you enjoying the discomfort?"

"So help me, Aren—"

He raised his hands in a mock-conciliatory gesture and went to pour himself a cup of tea. "Far be it from me to violate my healer's oath by treating an adult who is presumably in her right mind against her will." Seya turned away from him in irritation.

A few minutes later Kaya returned. "Nemone is settling into her room," she said. "I tried to talk to her, but she still seems a bit reticent to discuss her problems. I was hoping she might be more receptive to someone with a similar background."

"I don't know if she'll talk to me either. She was pretty upset that I brought her here," Seya said, but she went to go try anyway. It was the least she could do, she figured, and she didn't have anything else to do anyway.


End file.
